


Ripples from a Pebble

by Phenyx_tP



Category: due South
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenyx_tP/pseuds/Phenyx_tP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of Ray K and Fraser's adventure in the Arctic, Ray goes back to Chicago because he knows Fraser doesn't need him like Ray needs to be needed. But before he goes, Ray makes a comment that has a ripple effect through the rest of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripples from a Pebble

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to green_grrl for a wonderfully insightful beta and for finding the contractions that I cannot seem to type.
> 
> Disclaimer: No money being made here.  
> Rating :PG-13

 

####  **Cassandra Lynnette Beldon – June 8, 2029 ******

Cassandra Beldon smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her crisp polo shirt and hoped for the hundredth time that she had dressed appropriately for this first meeting. A business suit or a skirt, her more accustomed attire over the last year, would have been completely out of place in this remote science station in the wilderness of the Northwest Territories. The hiking boots, jeans and denim jacket she wore now would be her new uniform for the foreseeable future.

The handful of people Cassie would meet here all worked in the field. There would be no fundraising events to organize. No mailings, no fliers or thank you stickers to pass out. Here, on the northern edge of the continent, Cassie would work long hours beside the two other scientists stationed at this outpost. Their jobs would be to document, photograph, tag and inoculate the small flock of Northern Shrikes that were nesting in the area.

It was a grueling, thankless job - and one that Cassie was thrilled to have earned. These were the people doing the real work for wildlife preservation. They were making a difference. Cassie had spent two years in offices and boardrooms, patiently waiting for her chance to move into the field. 

Now that she had finally gotten here, Cassie was going to make damn sure she didn’t screw this up.

“So,” Joe Cartwright said. “That desk will be yours.” He pointed to a sturdy wooden desk in the corner. Stacks of papers and file folders littered the surface. “The next room is where we store all the equipment. This trailer is all we’ve got and space is scarce. So make sure everything gets put back in its proper place.” 

Joe Cartwright looked to be in his mid-fifties. His hair was salt-and-pepper gray and long enough to be pulled into a ponytail in back. His face was tan and well lined. He looked like a man who spent his life outdoors and did it with a smile on his face.

“We sleep here only during the nastiest weather,” Joe went on. “Most down time we’re each in our own tent. You probably saw them on your way in.” Cassie nodded in response. “At this point, we don’t pay much mind to the clock. Daylight 24-7 for the next two months means we’ll work as much as we can once you and Fraser get back from Regina.” 

“I’m looking forward to the trip,” Cassie admitted. “I’m hoping it will give me the chance to get to know Dr. Fraser better.” 

Joe snorted. At the same time a deep voice snarled, “I’m no doctor.” 

Cassie spun around in surprise as a tall man entered the trailer. He was very broad with short dark hair so black that it shimmered with reflected light. His eyes were a pale sky blue and he had the most kissable mouth Cassie had ever seen. 

She swallowed hard, trying to regain her equilibrium. Cassie knew this man was her new boss, yet she could not stop herself from admiring the way his worn leather jacket stretched across his shoulders. The man was breathtaking, absolutely gorgeous in a way that was normally reserved for fashion magazines. 

Cassie tried not to stare as the man reached out a hand toward her and said, “I’m Merlin Robert Fraser, supervisory field technician for this site. Call me Bob, everyone does. If you call me ‘Doctor’ again I’ll kick you in the head.”

Joe snickered. “He means it too. I’m gonna head out to the western field, see if any new mating pairs have arrived. If I don’t see you before you go, have a good trip.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bob Fraser grumbled. As Joe left, Bob turned toward Cassie. “I’m doing this under duress,” he told her. “I don’t approve at all.”

Cassie frowned. “I’m very experienced in the area of fundraising, Mr. Fraser,” she said defiantly. “I’m sure I can be of help.” 

“That’s not the point,” he replied. “I’m going to Regina to see my sister graduate from Depot. I just happen to be attending a reception afterward, during which a good family friend has arranged for me to meet the Assistant Deputy Minister of Finance for the Canadian Environment Assessment Agency.”

“Which means,” Cassie argued. “That if we do and say the right things, we may be able to get the extra funding we need for the program.”

Bob rolled his eyes dramatically. “God,” he groaned. “I hate politics. I’m no good at it.”

“That’s why you need to take me with you,” Cassie said with a smile. She shrugged. “I hate it too, but I’m damned good at it.”

“Gee, humble much Beldon?” Bob teased. 

“Just being honest.” Bob smiled at her and Cassie was suddenly aware of how young he looked. “I thought you’d be older,” she said, before she could stop herself. 

Bob frowned again. “Why?”

Cassie shrugged. “I read your paper documenting authenticated sightings of the Eskimo Curlew. It had been forty years since anyone had been able to prove they still existed. You raised quite a stir.” Cassie continued. “That was what, six, seven years ago? I was still in college.”

She watched as Bob scratched at an eyebrow with the back of his thumb. “It was eight years ago,” he corrected. “And I was seventeen at the time.”

“Wow,” Cassie said. “I’m impressed.” 

“Well don’t be,” Bob’s voice dropped to a growl. “Look - I barely have a college degree. What I’ve got I did online. So yeah, there’s stuff you know and things you can probably do that are far beyond my abilities. But I know more about the wildlife in this region than any other scientist in the world. I’ve been studying it since I was old enough to walk.”

“I’m not questioning your credentials, Mr. Fraser,” Cassie told him. “Your reputation precedes you. I’m honored to have this chance to work on your team.”

The killer smile broke out across Bob’s face again. “You’re not freaked out to be working for someone half a dozen years younger than you?”

“Not at all.”

“Good,” Bob said. “I don’t mean to be antagonistic Miss Beldon, but the situation grates on my nerves.”

“Please, call me Cassie.”

“Cassie, okay.” Bob replied with a nod. “I’ll take you to Regina with me. To most, it will look like you’re there as my date and I really don’t mind. You are a fine looking woman and I’d be lucky to have the affections of someone like yourself.” Bob scratched at his eyebrow again. “But I have to be honest about it with my family.”

“Of course!” Cassie exclaimed. 

“The whole Fraser clan will be there,” Bob continued. “And if my folks thought for even a moment that we were involved in any way, they’d be running background checks and scanning your fingerprints and whatever else they can think of.” 

“Let me guess,” Cassie said with a grin. “You’re the baby.” 

“By a whole two minutes,” Bob admitted. “My sister Randi and I are twins. It’s her graduation we will be attending.” Leaning his hip against a desk, Bob crossed his arms and sighed. “I’ll warn you, we’re a pretty tightly knit family. I’ll do my best not to let you feel excluded, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“You better give me the rundown. You have lots of brothers and sisters?” Cassie asked.

“There are four of us,” Bob explained. “Randi and I are the youngest. My sister Mel is the oldest. She’ll be there with her husband Don. Mike is the middle child. He’s a Mountie stationed near the Laird River. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years. Our schedules just haven’t meshed.”

“Well that doesn’t sound too complicated,” Cassie said.

Bob grinned. ”Oh, it’s not my brother or either of my sisters you need to worry about,” he said with an affectionate chuckle. “The scary part is going to be meeting my folks. They are an experience that defies explanation. And Dad will, of course, be in full dress uniform which means Ray will, of course, be unrelenting in teasing him about it.”

Cassie was confused. “Ray? Who’s Ray?”

“My stepfather,” Bob explained. His eyes twinkled fondly. 

Cassie nodded. “That’s nice,” she said with a wistful tone in her voice. “It’s nice that your mom and dad and stepparents can be together for the sake of their kids. Mine can’t stand to be in the same province.”

“I haven’t seen my mother since I was three-years-old. I have absolutely no memory of her.” Bob’s tone had turned serious once more. “Ray is my stepfather because he married my dad after my parents’ divorce.”

“Oh.” Cassie stumbled for a moment. “Well. Um… Have they been married long?” 

“Since I was eight,” Bob went on. “But I can’t ever remember a time in my life when Ray wasn’t there for us.”

Cassie tried to keep her thoughts impassive, yet there was something in her gaze that seemed to irritate Bob.

“My parents’ divorce had nothing to do with Ray,” Bob said firmly. “Though, everyone seems to draw that conclusion. Such insinuations tend to upset Ray. Which is why I bring it up now, so you won’t ask anything along those lines when we see them.”

“Well,” Cassie said with a shrug, “it’s really none of my business. It would be rude to say anything.”

“True.” Bob agreed. “But that hasn’t stopped people from saying shitty things about it in the past. A big part of who I am today is because Ray was there to help raise us. I don’t want him hurt if I can prevent it.”

“You care about him very much,” Cassie observed. 

Bob nodded. “He’s my second father.”

Cassie smiled. “Was Ray the one who taught you about wildlife?”

“Hell no,” Bob laughed. “Ray was born a city boy. He didn’t get countrified for years and years. No. My first wildlife teacher was an Arctic wolf named Diefenbaker.” 

 

####  **Stanley Raymond Kowalski – June 1999 through April 2004**

 

Ray gazed across the white expanse that stretched as far as the eye could see. Beneath his feet was snow, packed hard so that the snowshoes really weren’t necessary. But he’d learned to use them, damn it, and use them he would. 

Ray wasn’t sure if there was land beneath the snow he stood on. It was quite possible that there was nothing down there but frozen ocean water. Fraser had said it would be difficult to tell in these parts. 

“So,” Ray said. “This is it then.” 

Beside him, Fraser sighed. “Yes. It would be foolish to continue. The ice can be unpredictable at this time of year.”

“We didn’t find Franklin,” Ray said. “But we had a pretty awesome adventure. Didn’t we?”

“That we did, Ray,” Fraser agreed. For a long minute they grinned at each other. 

“Hey Frase,” Ray asked. “What day is it?” 

“Wednesday,” Fraser replied without hesitation.

“No, I mean, what is the date,” Ray reiterated.

“June 10th”

Ray nodded. “I’ll get back just in time for Independence Day. God,” he groaned. “It will be freakin’ hot.”

Fraser tugged at the scarf around his neck and rubbed nervously at an eyebrow. 

Ray sighed. “It’s time to quit playing in the snow, I guess. Time to be a grown-up again. Besides, I promised the Lieu that I’d be back.”

“You mustn’t break a promise.”

“Right.” Ray nodded. “I’m gonna miss you, Partner.” 

“And I you Ray.”

Ray stared toward the horizon rather than look at Fraser while he spoke. Leaving was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done. But he’d do it. He had to. 

This was Fraser’s life, and Ray loved the guy too much to hang around. He wouldn’t weigh Fraser down with a penniless tag-a-long sidekick. Not that Fraser would ever call him that. Fraser would gladly accept Ray. Take care of his every need. And someday Ray would hate him for it. 

Ray needed to be needed. Even when Stella had quit needing him, Ray had continued to behave as if she did. For a really long time he’d refused to believe that she could be anything other than a part of what they were together. But that just hadn’t been the case. At the end, she hadn’t needed him like he needed her. Hell - maybe she never did.

And Fraser was so much worse. He was an island. Benton Fraser could go a lifetime without needing anyone, and had pretty much done so. Oh sure, he could probably learn to share his life, but would he ever really need anyone? 

No. It was best to go now, while their partnership was so strong. Ray was the closest friend Fraser had and Ray was going to keep it that way for as long as he could. Fraser didn’t need to know how much he meant to Ray. He didn’t need to know that Ray’s feelings went far past friendship.

Ray loved the goofy guy. He loved him like he’d loved Stella for all those years. If Ray thought for one minute that Fraser had ever had a sexual thought about him, Ray would have been all over that like white on rice. But Fraser was so straight that he didn’t even realize there was a box to think outside of. 

So Ray would go back to Chicago. He and Fraser would write letters and share phone calls. And Ray would be the best friend he could be. He wouldn’t mess with the relationship they had. He wouldn’t test their friendship by bringing romance into it. It risked too much.

As if on cue, Ray and Fraser both turned and started walking toward camp. They were packing the sled when Fraser suddenly asked, “Playing in the snow, Ray?”

Ray grinned. “Well, what else can we call it?” 

Fraser straightened haughtily. “We were on an adventure,” he intoned seriously.

Ray snorted. And Fraser laughed. “Well,” he admitted. “Maybe we were playing some of the time.” 

Ray stabbed a finger in Fraser’s direction. “We had more than one snowball fight buster.” He glared at his hand. It was really hard to point a finger at a guy when you were wearing mittens. 

“True,” Fraser agreed. A long moment passed while Fraser tied and retied their tent onto the sled.  
“What does that mean, Ray? ‘Time to be a grown up’?” 

“Well, you know.” Ray shrugged. “Go to work, pay the bills, stuff like that.” 

Fraser gazed back out across the snow. “Settle down perhaps,” he said slowly.

“Sure,” Ray nodded. “Hey, maybe you could get a place with electricity. Then there would be a bill to pay.” 

Fraser smiled. “That would be a start wouldn’t it?”

God - Ray was going to miss this. Teasing Fraser was one of the very best things in life. “You could get a library card,” Ray went on. “And actually take a book out of the library instead of reading it there.”

“Oh dear,” Fraser gasped with overly dramatic shock. “That’s a great deal of responsibility, Ray. What if some harm should come to the text? It could be consumed by a fire or it could fall in the river.”

“That’s a pretty scary thought, Fraser. If anything like that happened, you’d be a fugitive from the library police.”

Their banter went on as they set off in the direction from which they’d come the day before. They were in no hurry, so it took a week to get to civilization. Neither of them allowed the other to get weepy. This wasn’t the end of the world and it wasn’t the end of their friendship. 

During Ray’s last day in Canada, Fraser bought him a fancy silver pen. It was waterproof and had special ink that wouldn’t freeze. Ray promised not to lose it and to write to Fraser with it regularly. Ray gave Fraser a cell phone and bought them both cellular service that allowed free calls between them. When Fraser balked at the cost, Ray waved him off.

“It’s cheap, Fraser.” Ray had argued. “Image what our long distance bills would be without these things.”

So Ray went back to Chicago. As predicted, he arrived in time for both the fireworks and the hottest day of the year. The first couple of weeks back were miserable as Ray’s body tried to adjust to the change in climate. Part of him never really adapted, he was always too hot. But he learned to ignore it most of the time.

Ray’s life fell into a routine pretty quickly. He went back to work and was given a new partner. His partner was a grizzled older detective named Ron Howard. Howard was almost sixty, mostly gray and had just a hint of a beer gut. He’d been divorced twice and constantly had a nub of a cigar stuck in his mouth that he lit whenever possible. It sometimes took the guy all afternoon to smoke the entire cigar, lighting it, putting it out, and relighting it as they moved through the day and the surrounding smoke-free environments. 

Howard was a good guy. Ray liked him well enough. He tended to call Ray “The Kid” which pissed Ray off but they got along. And they had a decent solve rate.

Ray and Fraser talked almost every day when Fraser could get a cell phone signal. Fraser insisted upon writing letters as well. So Ray would write smart aleck comments back. One time he wrote out a shopping list and mailed that to Fraser. Being the crazy Mountie that he is, Fraser edited the list, crossing off beer and Cheetos and replacing them with green vegetables and milk. When Ray received Fraser’s changes in the mail he laughed so hard his stomach hurt. 

Ray had been back in Chicago about four months when Fraser first mentioned Melissa during one of their phone conversations. Ray didn’t think anything of it until the name popped up again and then again over the next week or so. Barely a month after that, Fraser said he was getting married and Ray twitched right off the couch.

“Married?” Ray gasped. “Jesus, Frase, nothing like jumping into the deep end there, buddy. A wife comes with a lot more responsibility than a library book.”

“I know,” Fraser replied. “But you were right. It is time to settle down and… well…she reminds me of my mother. I care for her a great deal. Now that I’m stationed in Fort McPherson I won’t be away nearly as much as my father was. I’ll only be out on patrol ten or fifteen days of each month.”

Ray leaned forward on the couch, clutching the phone to his ear. “Does she make you happy, Fraser?” he asked seriously.

“Yes Ray, I think she does.” 

“Then go for it,” Ray said. Fraser deserved a little happiness. Ray wouldn’t begrudge him that. 

Vecchio, on the other hand, was flipping out. He was so upset that he even called Ray to yell about it. “Christ Stanley!” Vecchio hollered through the phone line. “Did he tell you how old she is?” 

Admittedly, the fact that Melissa had Vecchio ready to pop a blood vessel was just one more check mark in the positive column as far as Ray was concerned.

“She’s nineteen!” Vecchio wailed. “Less than a year ago she was the damned homecoming queen! Benny’s old enough to be her father.”

“So?” Ray drawled. “He found himself a nubile young thing to keep him warm at night. Don’t be so jealous.” 

“This is a mistake,” Vecchio groused. “A huge mistake. He’s going through some weird Canadian mid-life crisis or something.”

“Maybe, “ Ray countered. “But maybe Benton Fraser is the best catch in town and he’s finally let himself be caught.”

Vecchio snorted.

“Look,” Ray snarled. He was starting to get pissed off. “You’ve got no room to talk. What? Did you think you’re the only one allowed to live happily ever after and sprout a couple mini-Vecchios? When is the baby due, September?”

“That’s different,” Vecchio argued. “Stella’s not nineteen.”

“She was the first time she got married,” Ray pointed out.

“And look how well that turned out.”

“Yeah, fuck you too,” Ray responded. “Listen Vecchio, if you’re gonna be a shit about this… Are you going to the wedding?”

“Yeah,” Vecchio’s anger seemed to be winding down. “I’m the best man. I’ll be there.”

“You’re a best man, Vecchio, but I’m the other one.”

“What kind of goof has two best men?” Vecchio complained.

“A Canadian weirdo goof,” Ray laughed. “You didn’t think he’d do this the conventional way, did you? They’ll probably have Inuit throat singers instead of the wedding march. And I’ll bet you even odds that there’s lichen on the cake.”

The wedding actually turned out really nice. Melissa was, as expected, drop dead gorgeous. Her hair was long and dark and her brown eyes were so dark that you could barely tell where the colored part stopped and the pupil began. She was funny and smart, and she knew it too. She was a little flirty and lot of fun. 

Ray liked her in spite of himself. 

Melissa was perhaps a little too aware of her charms. She kept telling everyone how lucky Fraser was. But Ray could tell she was really proud to be seen on the arm of the decorated hero Corporal Benton Fraser. If she flaunted that a bit, Ray couldn’t blame her for it.

Ray of course, took his role as best man very seriously. He teased Fraser about his age, tortured him with cradle robbing jokes and asked the band to play the theme to Sesame Street during the reception. He flirted with the bride just enough to be noticed but not enough to annoy anyone. He was witty, entertaining and worked the party like a pro. He even danced one dance with Stella and laughingly commented on her baby-rounded belly.

It felt good. It really did, to see Fraser so happy. Ray was happy for him. He was happy for Stella too. She seemed to glow, shining even brighter every time she talked about her unborn child. Fraser and Stella were the most important people in Ray’s life. He wanted them to be happy. But the fact that Ray couldn’t be the one to give them that happiness caused part of him to die a bit whenever he thought of it. So Ray did his best not to think about it. 

Afterwards, Ray went back to Chicago. Okay, maybe it was a little weird to have Fraser and Melissa’s wedding picture on his desk. But he refused to be one of those pitiful single people who littered their desks with photos of themselves because they had no one else’s. 

Exactly ten months later, the Frasers became a family of three. Melinda Rae was just about the cutest baby Ray had ever seen. Ray’s first glimpse of her had been in a teeny tiny photo Fraser had taken with his cell phone about a minute after she’d been born. Three months later, Ray had gone to visit and had held the little girl for the first time. He’d fallen deeply in love with his dark-haired little Mel almost immediately. 

Time passed. Days shifted into weeks, then months. Ray worked cases with Howard and put a lot of bad guys in jail. Calls to Fraser continued on a pretty regular basis. It didn’t seem at all odd for Ray to spend an evening with the phone to his ear while he listened to baby Mel babble away at him from thousands of miles away. Some days, the really rough days, Ray needed those calls and that sweet baby voice in his ear. He needed it bad.

Late in the summer of 2002, Ray took some vacation time and again headed to Canada. He arrived only two weeks after Fraser’s son was born. Ray had never held a baby that small before, so he was a little freaked out at first. But after a little practice Ray relaxed a bit. He felt as though the little boy took a real shine to him, especially once he’d given the child a decent name.

“That is not buddies, Frase,” Ray scolded. “How could you torture your own son with a name like that? Have I taught you nothing?”

Fraser had smiled an amused little smile. “Mycroft George is a fine name. Melissa had a great-uncle Mycroft.”

“Fine name my ass,” Ray grumbled. “Don’t worry Mikey,” he cooed to the baby in his arms. “You don’t ever have to tell anybody that your dad is a freak. We’ll all call you Mikey from now on.”

A year later, Ray was able to spend Christmas with the Fraser family. He would have felt a little bad about it, intruding on a family holiday like that, but they all welcomed him with open arms. Especially Melissa; she was pregnant again and in need of an extra set of hands. Five months along and expecting twins, Melissa was still having trouble with morning sickness. Little Mel was a curious and energetic two and a half year old and Mikey, at just over a year, had never learned to walk. He’d gone straight from crawling to running as fast as little legs could carry him. So when Ray showed up to keep the kids out of her hair, Melissa was really pleased to see him.

Ray had more fun in those two weeks than he ever thought possible. They had baked cookies and decorated a tree. Ray had chased the kids around the couch while they squealed at the tops of their lungs until they all collapsed in fits of laughter. On Christmas Eve, Fraser read aloud “The Night Before Christmas” and then sang carols by candlelight until the children fell asleep. Then he and Ray brought the presents out of hiding and positioned everything just right. 

Mikey wasn’t quite old enough to understand what was going on, but for Mel, it was magic. Seeing the look of wonder on that little girl’s face when she woke up Christmas morning was a gift Ray would remember for the rest of his life. It was greatness in its purest form. It made even a cynical old Chicago cop like Ray think maybe Santa Claus really did exist.

Ray returned to Chicago in early January. His first morning back on the job he was assigned a new case, that of a nineteen-year-old college student. The pretty blonde girl had been raped and murdered, her naked body abandoned in the snow among a stand of trees in Lincoln Park. 

As the harsh reality of Ray’s life enveloped him again, Ray tried to hold those magical days of Christmas close. In one way, the memory of those feelings made each day bearable. But in another, it reinforced how badly Ray’s life sucked, how futile his efforts seemed to be. For every scumbag he put away, another seemed to sprout in its place. Ray’s job got harder each day.

In March, everything changed. There was no single cause, no one thing that brought Ray’s life crashing around his ears. It was a series of events, unrelated and connected only by Ray’s presence. 

The first was Ray’s fortieth birthday. It was no big deal really. Ray was cool with it. Frannie brought a cake to the station and Fraser had called. Ray put his phone on speaker so that everyone in the bullpen could hear Mel and Mikey sing a baby-voiced version of “Happy Birthday” to Uncle Ray.

After work, Howard had taken Ray to O’Malley’s. They sat at the bar, ordered burgers and drank beer. 

“It’s hard to believe,” Ray said at one point. “I thought forty would feel different, you know?”

Howard grunted noncommittally. 

“It blows my mind to think I’ve been humping this job for twenty years,” Ray added.

Howard barked a laugh. “Think how I feel,” he argued. “I’ve been at it twice as long.”

“Yeah well,” Ray said, taking a quick sip of his beer. “At least you’re close enough to retirement to start a countdown, right? You’re what, three, four years away?”

“What the hell am I gonna do in retirement?” Howard growled. “This job is all I know.”

Ray stared at his partner, watching as Howard pulled a lighter from his pocket and re-lit his cigar. For a moment, Ray had the strangest sensation of seeing himself, twenty years in the future. He would be nothing more than a tired old cop, doing his job every day and going home each night to an empty apartment. There would be no family waiting for him. Even his parents would be gone, really gone, and not just living in Arizona. Every day would be just like the one before, just like the one Ray had lived through yesterday. 

The thought freaked Ray out so much that he switched from beer to Jack Daniels. Howard had to call a cab to get Ray home. 

A week later, Ron Howard was killed in the line of duty. Some stupid kid, about fourteen-years-old and strung out on God knows what, pulled a gun on them while they were following a lead. One moment, Ray and Howard were standing on a street corner looking for witnesses to a jewelry store heist. The next, Howard was on the ground with a big red hole in his chest. 

Ray shot the kid in the shoulder and handcuffed him to a nearby car while simultaneously calling for an ambulance. Then he kneeled over his partner, pressing on the growing red stain as best he could. 

“Help is coming, Howard,” Ray growled at him. “Hang on Ron, help is coming.”

Howard grinned at him. “It’s not so bad, Kid,” he gasped. “It don’t hurt much.”

“Shut up. Save your strength. They’ll be here soon.” 

Howard coughed, spraying Ray with blood. “Hey,” he gasped. “Don’t let them bury me in my dress blues. Damn things don’t fit right anymore.”

“No,” Ray said. “You’ll be okay. Just hang on.”

“Ray,” Howard hissed in pain, his voice growing weaker with each word. “My Will, legal crap, it’s… it’s in the big drawer in the kitchen. The one by the phone.” 

When the ambulance and backup arrived three minutes later, Ray was sitting numbly on the sidewalk beside the lifeless body of his partner. 

There was a big turnout at the funeral. There always was for an officer killed in the line of duty. Cops from all over the city showed up in full dress uniform to honor their fallen brother. But there were no mourners. Howard had no family, both ex-wives lived in other states and he’d never had any children. He was alone in the world, and there seemed to be no one who would really miss him. 

During the week of leave that Ray was required to take afterward, he tried not to notice how much his own life mirrored that of his fallen partner. He tried, but the truth of it was really hard to ignore. Sure, Ray had his folks. But they weren’t getting any younger. Ray was going to lose them one day and he would have no one left to call his own. 

Ray called his mom and spoke to her for several hours, and gave serious thought to going out for a visit. But he wasn’t sure he could see his parents right now without bringing himself down even more. So Ray did the only thing he could to keep himself from going nuts. He hopped on a plane and went to see Fraser. 

With less than a week’s worth of leave, Ray spent more time getting there than he actually got to stay. But it had been worth it. He stayed with Fraser’s family for two days even though Fraser was on patrol and not actually there. And yet, those two days curled up on Fraser’s couch watching ‘Dora the Explorer’ with Mel on one knee and Mikey on the other did more for Ray’s well-being than a dozen shrinks possibly could.

The last straw, the one that finally broke Ray down completely, struck just three days after Ray returned to duty. He hadn’t gotten a new partner yet, so he was on his own when he responded to the call of a dead woman in an alley. The night before had been cold, typical of Chicago in late March. The body had been covered in a fine layer of frost and partially frozen to the ground.

She was a bit pathetic, really. Thin and drawn, she had needle tracks and open sores along both arms. She had no defensive wounds, showed no sign of assault. There seemed to be no foul play. She was just another lost soul who had chased her own demons until they killed her. 

Ray did his job. With Mort’s help, he identified the body and dug up an address. When no one answered the door at the last known address he hunted down the landlord and got the old man to open the dead girl’s apartment. The smell in that apartment hit Ray like a hammer to the gut. 

There was very little furniture in the tiny space. There was a chair, a rickety old table, a lamp with a bare bulb and in one corner, a crib that seemed to once have been painted white. That weary-looking crib sent chills down Ray’s spine. Some part of him knew what he’d find when he got to that side of the room, but the reality of it still made his stomach roll. 

A filthy little girl, not much older than Mel, blinked up at Ray from one corner of the crib. She was half naked, sucking her thumb and not making a sound. In the opposite corner, wedged between the thin mattress and the wall, was the body of a little boy, six or eight months old. The boy had been dead for days, maybe even a week, his little body swollen with decay. 

Ray’s mind overlaid the dead child’s face with Mikey’s rambunctious grin and for a moment, Ray felt his head spin. He quickly left the room, stepping into the hall to make the necessary phone calls. By the time the paramedics arrived, Ray had pulled himself together. The girl was carried away to an ambulance as the coroner arrived for her brother.

“How long has the mother been dead?” the coroner asked Ray.

Ray shrugged. “Our guy says a day or two.”

“Hmm,” was the reply. “This little guy’s been gone longer than that.”

“She had a drug problem,” Ray volunteered. “We know that much.”

The coroner nodded. “You suppose she was so strung out she forgot to feed her kids?”

“How the hell should I know?” Ray yelled, raising his voice more than he had intended.

“Calm down, Kowalski,” he said. “I know you’ve seen worse than this.”

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “This is bad, but you’re right. I’ve seen worse.”

The coroner, a guy named Karl that Ray had worked with a few times, patted Ray’s shoulder in understanding. “This isn’t the first dead kid you’ve come across. It won’t be the last.” 

At that moment, Ray felt the world tilt beneath his feet. He couldn’t bear the thought of finding the body of another dead child. He couldn’t make himself stand by once more while guys in overcoats and latex gloves scraped another dead girl off the ground. He just couldn’t do it anymore.

“Yes it is,” Ray said softly. “This is the last one. I’m done.”

By the end of the day, Ray had typed up his resignation and left it on Lieutenant Welsh’s desk. He turned in his badge and his gun, bagged up his dress uniform and gave it to Tim Harvey, the only guy Ray knew who wore that size. 

Within a week, Ray had filed for early retirement, put the Goat into storage and sublet his apartment. He gave away anything else he owned that couldn’t be carried to the airport. By the time Melissa Fraser gave birth to twins in mid-April, Ray was living in an apartment above Harrison’s Mercantile in the bustling downtown metropolis of Fort McPherson, NWT, Canada – population 781. 

 

####  **Benton Fraser – October 4th – 5th, 2007**

Benton limped along the moonlit path. It was only a five-kilometer walk between the outpost and home, but tonight it felt ten times that. Buck had warned him once about how old leg wounds would haunt him as he aged. The older Mountie had been right. 

“I’m not that old,” he complained to the darkness around him. 

The silence that answered cut like a knife through Benton’s chest. A year and a day ago, Dief would have made some caustic remark, belittling Benton’s survival skills or commenting on the superiority of four legs over two. But one year ago today, Diefenbaker had been killed while apprehending a suspect. 

Benton had planned to be home by now. He had wanted to be with his family on this solemn anniversary, surrounded by his wife and children. He and Ray would share a pizza and toast their fallen comrade with sodas and good Canadian beer. But he’d missed it. The day was nearly past. There was less than an hour left before midnight.

Arresting Hansen had taken longer than anticipated and now Benton was two (almost three) days late in returning from patrol. He was tired, heartsick and weary in his very bones. His wrenched knee, bruised ribs and assorted other scratches and contusions didn’t help matters. The additional charges against Hansen of assaulting an officer and resisting arrest would be easily proven. 

Benton pressed on. At least the weather wasn’t bad. It was just cold enough for there to be a few inches of new snow, but the temperature was by no means extreme. The full moon, reflected from the snow, serenely lit Benton’s way.

In truth, Benton had considered calling Ray to ask for a ride home. Despite the late hour, Benton knew that Ray would not have hesitated to come. But Benton had decided against it. He simply did not want to see the pinched look on Melissa’s face when Ray arrived at the house. 

For reasons Benton had been unable to fathom, a strange tension had sprung up between his wife and his best friend. Whenever he saw them together, a rare occasion over the last several months, Benton could swear there were anxious glances between the two. It was almost as if Melissa was afraid of Ray for some reason, as if Ray would erupt in violence at any moment. Ray, in reaction perhaps, had become sullen and withdrawn, spending little time at the house when Benton was there.

The most likely cause of the strain was an argument of some sort. Ray spent a great deal of time with Benton’s family when he was on patrol. Benton knew that. He had in fact, come to depend on Ray being there when Benton himself could not. Knowing Ray was there to chop wood or fix the furnace, rotate tires or shovel the walk, made Benton worry less when he was gone.

But Ray could be taciturn and annoying. Benton knew that better than anyone. And Melissa… well, she sometimes had difficulty seeing the grand scope of things. She was far more concerned with how events affected her. She even got irritated on occasion with the amount of time Benton spent with the children. Whenever that happened, they would leave all four tots with Ray (he was an excellent and much loved babysitter) and Benton would treat his wife to a special night out.

So it really wouldn’t be all that surprising to find that the two personalities, Ray and Melissa, had clashed over something. Something neither had seen fit to bother Benton with as yet. He felt confident that eventually, they would work things out between them. Ray would apologize, because Melissa just wasn’t the apologizing type, and then things would again be as they were.

Benton crested the small hill that rose at the edge of his property. A frown furrowed his brow as the house came into view. The windows were all dark. Due to the late hour, it was unsurprising to find that Melissa had already gone to bed. But from here, Benton could usually see the faint glow of the nightlight that burned in the kitchen. Tonight there was nothing.

When he reached the back door, Benton found it locked. It took but a moment to retrieve the key from a pouch on his belt. Inside, hidden from the moonlight, it was very dark. The house was cold. Benton could still see his breath. As his footsteps echoed across the kitchen floor, Benton felt a shiver of fear as he realized the house was empty. 

With panic creeping to the edges of his mind, Benton hurried through the house. He opened the first bedroom door he reached. Benton’s daughters were not there. Mel and little Randi shared this room, but the small quilt-covered beds were empty. Randi’s stuffed giraffe, Angus, (who went everywhere that Randi went) was gone as well.

Turning on his heel, Benton crossed the hall and entered the boys’ room. The beds in the room were both empty. There were no toys on the floor, no shoes lined up by the closet.

Shaking now, Benton headed for the master bedroom. The neatly made bed stood vacant. The cedar chest that normally rested at the foot of the bed was ominously absent. That cedar chest had belonged to Melissa’s mother and had been the only piece of furniture Melissa had brought to their marriage. 

Opening the closet, Benton found his clothes just as he had left them. His shirts and spare uniforms were neatly pressed and hanging in his half of the space. The other half was bare. 

“Where would she go?” Benton’s whispered gasp sounded too loud in the abandoned house. Melissa would never have gone back to her parent’s home. Never. She and her stepfather didn’t get along. And her mother had died of pneumonia when Melissa was fourteen. It was one of the main aspects that had drawn Benton to her. They shared the pain of a lost mother. Melissa’s biological father had never once been mentioned by anyone. Benton wasn’t sure that she even knew the man’s name.

“Where would she go?” he repeated. He had no idea where to start looking, no clue how to find his missing family. 

Benton searched the house. He thoroughly and methodically made his way through every room looking for a note, or a message of some kind, anything that would lead him to his next course of action. When his hunt revealed nothing, Benton turned back the way he had come. He slammed out of the house and started to run. He raced along the moonlit path, heedless of the aches and pains that had slowed him earlier.

Before long, Benton was clawing his way up the wooden staircase that led to the apartment above Harrison’s Mercantile. “Ray,” he called as he pounded on the door at the top of the stairs. “Ray!”

The door burst open so suddenly that Benton nearly collapsed at Ray’s feet. “Fraser!”

“She’s gone, Ray. Melissa is gone.” Benton could feel himself shaking. He was so very close to losing control, his emotions too raw and painful to deny. 

Ray scooped Benton into his arms and held on, he held on tight. “I know,” Ray said sadly. “I know.”

“She took the children,” Benton gasped.

“No!” Ray shook him hard. “No, Fraser. They’re with me. The kids are here.” Ray shook him again to make sure the words were getting through Benton’s brain. “She left them with me.”

“What?” 

“Come on,” Ray dragged Benton across the threshold and kicked the door closed. Hauling Benton by the arm, Ray crossed the small living room and turned down the hallway that led to the bathroom and the apartment’s single bedroom. He opened the bedroom door and stepped aside to let Benton pass.

A nightlight, plugged directly into an electrical socket, provided enough light to see the room. Ray’s bedroom was small, with barely enough space for the few pieces of furniture it contained. There was an end table on which stood a small lamp. Against one wall was a tall chest of drawers. A double-sized bed was in the opposite corner, with one side against the wall. The bed’s other side was protected by a curved metal bed rail, the portable kind that tucked under the mattress creating a small barrier to keep an occupant from falling onto the floor. 

The bed currently held multiple dark-haired occupants. Relief caused Benton to sag against the doorframe when he saw them. For a long minute, Benton simply gazed at his children.

All four children slept peacefully in Ray’s bed. Mel was closest to the wall. She was little more than a mound of covers. Only her mass of dark hair was visible. 

Randi slept curled against her sister’s back. Her head was thrown back against the pillow and she was snoring softly. In one pudgy toddler hand she tightly held her stuffed giraffe.

Mike had the space nearest the edge. He slept on his side with one hand curled around the metal bed rail. His other hand stuck out between the metal bars as if he had been reaching out for something as he fell into slumber.

In the brief gap between Mike and Randi, there was Bobby. He was on top of the covers, sleeping perpendicular to the other children. He was sprawled out in every direction, taking up way more room than one would think possible of a three-year-old. His head pillowed on his twin sister’s stomach while his right leg curled over his brother’s hip. 

“I was late again,” Benton whispered. “I should have been home days ago.” 

Ray sighed heavily beside him. “Wouldn’t have mattered, Frase,” he said. “She dropped them off here the same afternoon that you left on patrol.”

Benton’s eyes widened as he turned toward Ray in surprise. “That was two weeks ago!” 

“Shh,” Ray frowned. “Don’t wake them.” As he quietly closed the bedroom door, Ray put an arm around Benton’s shoulders and steered him toward the other room. 

Feeling numb and more than a bit detached, Benton allowed himself to be led to the front room. With a gentle nudge, Ray guided him to sit on the worn old couch in Ray’s living room. 

Benton stared stupidly at the blankets spread across the cushions, the pillow propped against the armrest. It took a ridiculously long number of seconds for Benton to realize that Ray had been sleeping here, his bed being otherwise encumbered. 

Ray leaned over and turned on the lamp, bathing the room in soft light.  
“Damn,” Ray cursed. He grabbed Benton’s chin, tilting his face toward the light. “I see Hansen fought back. You got him though, right?”

Benton nodded. 

“Are you hurt bad?” Ray asked. “Do you need to see Doc?”

“No,” Benton replied automatically. “There are just a few scrapes and contusions for the most part. I did wrench my knee.”

“Right,” Ray said with a brisk nod. “So just an ice pack and some Tylenol then,” Ray released the grip he had on Benton’s face and patted him on the shoulder. “Take off your coat Frase, before you roast yourself.”

Ray moved toward the kitchen and Benton could hear him as he rummaged through a drawer and as the freezer door opened. Benton started to remove his coat, but he couldn’t follow through on the motion. His arms felt leaden. His entire body felt as if he’d been tied to large weights and thrown into an abyss. 

When Ray returned he looked at Benton and sighed. “Here,” he said, handing Benton two tablets and a glass of water. Benton took them unquestioningly. 

“Those are Tylenol PM,” Ray explained. “So you’ll be sleeping like a baby in no time.” Pulling the coffee table closer, Ray asked, “Which knee? The bad one?”

“Of course,” Benton replied.

“Figures.” Ray carefully lifted the leg onto the coffee table and propped a towel wrapped bag of ice on Benton’s knee. He then proceeded to gently remove Benton’s boots. That done he took off Benton’s hat and eased the pack from Benton’s shoulders. A moment later, he shed Benton’s coat and the first of his layers of shirts.

Benton watched him silently until he seemed to be finished with his fussing. “Where is Melissa, Ray?” Benton finally asked. 

“I don’t know exactly,” Ray said. He sat cautiously on the cushion at Benton’s side. 

“Where approximately?” 

Ray put an arm around Benton’s shoulders and sighed. “Rumor has it that she’s run off with Carson Bellows.”

“Who?” Benton asked with a frown.

“An engineering student working on his PhD,” Ray explained. “I don’t think you’ve met him. He’s been around a while, interning with the mining outfit.” 

Benton stared at his hands thoughtfully, letting things click into place in his mind. “You knew,” he whispered. “You knew and she was afraid you would tell me.”

Ray shook his head. “I didn’t know. Suspected, yeah, but I had no proof. I didn’t know for sure.” 

Benton glared at him. “You should have said something.”

“What?” Ray threw his hands up in exasperation. “What was I going to say? ‘Hey buddy, I think your wife’s doing some ivy-league snot?’ I had nothing but suspicion and innuendo. It would have been her word against mine.”

“I would have believed you,” Benton gasped. 

“No,” Ray shook his head sadly. “You wouldn’t have. Or at least you shouldn’t have. She is your wife, Ben. You shouldn’t trust me more than her.” 

“But you would have been right,” Benton argued. 

“Yeah, and you would never have forgiven me for it.” Ray said. “Besides, the only reason I knew as much as I did was because she started leaving the kids with me a lot whenever you went on patrol. There were lots of overnights, sometimes entire weekends. What if I HAD said something to you? You wouldn’t have believed it. And she would have been pissed off at me. So then where would she take the kids? They needed me. I had to stay on her good side for their sake.”

“But,” Benton started. 

“But nothing,” Ray interrupted. “I had to make sure she kept bringing the kids here. I couldn’t let her go to one of her little friends. Good grief, do you think that ditzy blonde, Nellie Gilmartin would have taken care of them? Do you think Nellie could have kept her cool when Sally Kakfwi started sniffing around?”

Benton felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. “Ms. Kakfwi was here?” he gasped. “Social services is involved?”

“No,” Ray shook his head. Ray’s strong grip on Benton’s shoulder was incredibly reassuring. “I turned on the charm and talked a good game. Sally knows us, which helped. And I’ve got enough experience with children’s services to know all the right things to say.” 

“God.” Benton buried his face in his hands. “Their mother abandoned them. Ms. Kakfwi would have been justified in taking them into her custody.”

“Melissa has run off, true.” Ray said. “But they weren’t abandoned, not by you. You were at work is all.”

“Ray Vecchio was right,” Benton moaned. He slouched back on the couch, feeling the weariness pull at him like quicksand. “I made a terrible mistake. I should never have married someone so young.” 

Benton suddenly found himself gasping under the weight of one very angry Ray Kowalski. Ray grabbed Benton by the collar of his shirt and shook him with an unexpected ferocity.

“You’re having a rough day,” Ray growled. “It sucks. I know. So this once,” Ray yanked Benton forward and then slammed him back against the couch. “Just this once,” Ray snarled in Benton’s face, “I will let that comment slide. But you will never say it again do you hear me? You won’t even think it.”

Benton stared in awe at the fury that kneeled over him.

“And I swear,” Ray hissed. “If those kids ever hear you say it I will personally beat you to within an inch of your life.” Ray seemed to suddenly realize how threatening he’d become and he released the hold he had on Benton’s shirt. “You’ve got four great kids back there, Frase.” Ray said softly as he smoothed away the wrinkles he’d made in Benton’s clothes. “Don’t ever regret them. Don’t ever wish they hadn’t happened.” 

“I won’t,” Benton promised as tears began to run down his cheeks. “Not ever.”

Benton laid his head on Ray’s shoulder and allowed the tears to fall. Tomorrow, he could blame the medication. He could feel the medicine trying to drag him into slumber but for the moment, Benton’s misery held reign. “What am I going to do?” Benton whimpered. 

Ray’s embrace tightened hard around Benton. “Right now, Frase,” he whispered. “You are going to sleep. Sleep for at least twelve hours. You’re aching and tired.”

Benton sniffled, stifling a yawn as his body began to submit to the sleeping pills and his fatigue. 

“Sleep,” Ray murmured. “When you wake up, we’ll make a new plan. But for now, just sleep.” 

When Benton next opened his eyes, he found himself curled on his side, his head pillowed on the arm of Ray’s couch. The ambient light indicated that the time was well into the afternoon. The shadows in the room were hinting at the beginnings of twilight as the days grew ever shorter with the approach of winter.

Still blinking into wakefulness, Benton wondered for a moment about the silent apartment. As he sat up, Benton noticed a piece of paper propped on the coffee table in front of him. The page had obviously been torn from a child’s notebook and folded in half. The words “new plan” were scrawled across the front in Ray’s handwriting. 

“Fraser,” the message read. “I’m at work. Mini-Frasers are at the kiddie-care place down the street. Let them stay and play with the other kids. I’ll pick them up after work. See you around 5:30.”

A quick glance at the digital clock on the television told Benton that he had a little less than three hours before Ray would return with the children. Rising slowly from the couch, Benton stretched, groaning at the pull on his still aching muscles. A brief but very hot shower did a great deal to rejuvenate him.

After changing into clean clothes, (he’d found them neatly folded and waiting for him on the back of the commode) Benton washed the dishes in the sink and straightened the living area. Of the four clothes baskets stacked in one corner, he quickly discerned which held clean clothes and which held dirty clothes. He folded the clean and separated the dirty in to loads of whites and darks.

Glancing toward the clock, Benton found himself with still more than two hours before Ray was due to come home. Benton considered cooking dinner, but felt it was still too soon to begin that chore. As he stared into space pondering his options, Benton’s gaze was drawn to the top of Ray’s television cabinet. 

The small cupboard stood just over a meter in height. The television took up most of the open space. The doors which had once been designed to hide the device when not in use had long since been removed and discarded. The flat top of the cabinet was littered with framed photographs. 

Benton stepped closer and randomly picked up one of the small frames. The photo behind the glass was an older one, taken when Melinda was still a toddler. In front of the glass, tucked into the frame’s edge, was a newer image. This one was a professional picture of Mikey, his first school picture, and had been taken just a couple of months ago. 

Benton set the frame back in its place and smiled at the history laid out in front of him. There were all kinds of photos. Some were candid shots while others were posed. Some were group shots and others held images of only one or two people. Nearly all contained images of Benton’s own children.

In the center front, obviously a position of some importance, sat the oldest of the pictures. Benton’s smile turned sad as he picked it up and caressed the glass. It was a picture of the three of them, taken long ago. The image showed Benton and Ray, each crouched low. Between them sat Diefenbaker, his wry grin full of his usual mischievousness.

With a heavy sigh Benton did some brief calculations and made a quick decision. He replaced the photograph and turned toward the couch where his coat still hung over one arm. Within minutes, Benton was outside, striding purposefully toward his destination. Cutting through the woods, Benton would be able to get there in thirty minutes or so. He would have plenty of time to pay his respects and still get back before Ray returned with the children.

Twenty-nine minutes later Benton rounded the bend and began to climb the large hill upon which Diefenbaker had been buried. He was a little winded, and overly warm. The snow along this route had drifted which made walking more difficult than it would have been if he’d taken the road that ran along the opposite side of the hill. But that road led toward the house Benton had shared with his wife, and he just was not ready to walk that path yet.

About halfway up the hill, Benton noticed tracks in the snow. They came from the opposite direction, from the road that ran between town and Benton’s home. The tracks were about a day old and were obviously from a sled pulled by a single person rather than a team of dogs. Benton’s destination led him straight to the tracks so that his footsteps left a parallel trail in the snow. 

At the top of the hill, Benton gasped. Tears sprang to his eyes as he surveyed the area around his fallen comrade’s grave. The tracks in the snow told a clear story. A weighted sled had been pulled up the hill by one man, while the snow surrounding Dief’s cairn was littered with tiny footprints. Four separate sets of little footprints. 

Attached to the wooden grave marker with tacks were several pieces of white paper. Upon the paper were childish drawings and painstakingly written notes in crayon. They covered nearly the entire face of the marker. Balanced carefully on top was most of a single glazed donut, not yet succumbed to the wildlife around it. 

Ray had been here. When Benton had been late, and unable to memorialize this somber anniversary, Ray had come in his place. Ray had endeavored to keep Dief’s memory alive for the children. Where Benton had failed, Ray had stepped in and tried, in his own unique fashion, to fill in the gap. In so many ways, Ray had been there. 

Ray would continue to be there, of that, Benton had no doubt. Ray would have a plan. It may only get them through the next twelve hours, but that would be enough for now. They would take things one step at a time until Melissa came back.

Benton sat in the snow next to Diefenbaker’s grave. Reaching out, he straightened one of the fluttering pictures the children had left there. 

“I miss you, Dief,” Benton told the silent grave. “And I could really use your advice right now. It would most likely be spectacularly unhelpful,” he added with a sad smile. “But it would be appreciated all the same.” 

Benton sat on the hilltop for a long time allowing his memories to be the only reply.

 

####  **Raimondo Matteo Salvatore Vecchio – May 15th, 2008**

Ray slipped his cell phone back into his pocket just as the buzzer overhead began to sound. The light on top of the baggage carousel began to flash and the first black suitcase came tumbling down the belt. As usual, there was a crush of people at every available space along the carousel as they jostled for the right to grab their bags.

Ray could afford to be patient. He’d just spoken to Stella and she was still a few minutes from the airport. Ray could take his time retrieving his luggage and Stella would be out front to meet him. She wouldn’t even need to park the car.

A few minutes later, Ray was pleasantly surprised to find that both his bags had made all the same connecting flights he had taken. With the grace of a man who had become accustomed to traveling over the years, Ray lifted first the larger and then the smaller of the two suitcases off the conveyer belt. He stacked them one on top of the other, lifted the handle of the larger bag and set off across the concourse, pulling the wheeled luggage behind him.

When he stepped through the sliding glass doors of the airport’s entrance, Ray smiled. He closed his eyes for a moment and savored the glorious Florida sunshine. 

“Dad! Hey, Dad!” 

Ray had only a moment to prepare himself before the running figure of his eight-year-old son collided with him. “Hi there buddy,” Ray replied. He crouched on one knee and wrapped the boy in his arms, squeezing hard. “Hey,” Ray said with a frown. “I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed to grow while I was gone.” He ruffled the boy’s hair as they both laughed.

“Did you miss me?” 

“I sure did,” Ray answered. 

“Did you bring me something?”

Ray laughed again. “Of course I did you spoiled brat. But it’s buried in my bag so you’ll have to wait until we get home.”

“Aw, Dad! Come on! We have to go to my soccer game before we go home. It will take hours!”

“Tyler,” Ray said. “Patience is a virtue.” 

“You sound like Uncle Ben,” Tyler grinned. “Come on, Mom’s right over there.” The boy grabbed Ray by the hand and started dragging him toward the car that was parked a few yards away.

Ray quickly stored his bags in the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat of his wife’s car. “Hello gorgeous,” Ray said with a grin as he leaned across the gearshift. 

Stella smiled and said, “Hello,” before welcoming him home with a deeply passionate kiss. 

“Gag,” Tyler’s voice groaned from the bag seat. The boy was accustomed to his parents’ displays of affection, so he busied himself with his seatbelt and then turned on his hand-held gaming system. 

After a long moment, the kiss ended and Ray grabbed for his own seatbelt. 

“So, how was the trip?” Stella asked as she put the car in gear and checked her rearview mirror.

“Relatively uneventful,” Rey replied. ”I was in Canada for two whole weeks and not one person got abducted or shot at or anything.”

“Ray,” Stella chuckled. “You know perfectly well that no one has pulled a gun on you since you left the force.”

“First impressions, Sweetheart, I can’t get over those first impressions.” Ray teased back. 

Stella pulled into traffic and said to her son, “Tyler, we’re moving. You know that thing distracts me while I drive. Use your headphones, please.”

“Sure Mom.”

A moment later the electronic beeps, whistles and honks coming from the back seat were abruptly silenced.

Stella checked in the rearview mirror to be sure that their son was otherwise occupied. “So,” she said as she glanced toward Ray. “How are the kids?”

“Okay, I guess.” Ray sighed. “The twins have no concept of what’s happened. They’re too young to really understand. Randi seems to think her Mom’s gone to the store or something, like she’ll be back any minute.” 

Stella frowned. “It’s been six months.”

“Almost seven,” Ray corrected. “Mikey and Mel get it, though. Mel is trying to hide it from the twins. She’s trying so hard. She packs their little lunch boxes and makes sure the twins brush their teeth. Benny lets her do some of it because he thinks it actually makes her feel better. But he and Stanley are really careful not to expect it from her. They don’t want her to step into the role of mother. She’s way too young for that.”

“You know he hates it when you call him Stanley,” Stella chided. 

“It’s the only way to cut back on the confusion,” Ray scoffed. “Anyway, I think Mikey’s taking it the hardest. You should have seen him Stella. He was so quiet, so subdued. At the dinner table one night he knocked over his glass and spilled about two swallows of milk. He started bawling like he’d broken a limb.”

“Oh poor thing,” Stella replied. “Have they heard anything from Melissa?”

“Not a word.” Ray shook his head sadly.

“I’m surprised Benton hasn’t tracked her down.”

Ray nodded. “I said something along the same lines. The thing is, Benny is fully convinced that Melissa is off somewhere trying to settle into her new life and that as soon as she is ready, she’ll send for the children. He’s afraid that if he finds her before that, she’ll ask for the children that much sooner.”

“She abandoned them,” Stella argued. “No judge will take them from Benton to give her full custody.”

Ray sighed. “But that’s the problem. Benny won’t take it to court.”

Stella gasped. “You really think he’d just hand those children over to her?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘A child needs its mother’.” Ray snarled with derision.

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“Those were Benny’s exact words,” Ray’s voice rose in frustration. “You should have seen Stanley’s face. I thought the guy was going to burst a blood vessel or something. I think the two of them have been arguing about it.”

“Ray won’t let those kids go without a fight,” Stella said with conviction.

Ray nodded. “Yeah, but Stanley doesn’t really have any say in the matter.”

Stella shot him a knowing look. “When have you ever known Ray Kowalski to let technicalities like that stop him?” 

Ray considered that for a minute. “You’re right,” he agreed. “Stanley will raise a huge stink if Melissa tries to take those kids.”

“That’s probably an understatement. Ray adores those children,” Stella said. “He’ll die before he lets them go.”

“You know,” Ray admitted with a sigh. “That actually makes me feel a lot better about the entire situation. I was really worried that she’d show up and the kids would be gone before any of us could do anything about it.” 

“Not with Ray around,” Stella stated unequivocally.

Ray nodded. “When we get home, I’m going to give Stanley a call. If I asked him to, do you think I could convince him to call us when Melissa shows up?” he asked.

“I’ll talk to him,” Stella promised. “If Melissa does turn up, they are going to need a good lawyer. I can’t represent them in Canada, but I can provide advice. He’ll call,” she said. “He’ll definitely call.”

“Good.” Ray felt himself relax for the first time in days. He’d left Benny in Kowalski’s care before and things had turned out just fine. He could do it again. 

 

####  **Miranda Caroline Fraser – April 29th, 2011**

Randi examined her array of colored pencils thoughtfully. There were only ten words on her spelling list so she needed to pick ten colors that would not only be easily read but also complementary. Daddy had been right, 64 colors was extravagant. There was really very little difference between the Baby Blue and the Cerulean, the Salmon and the Bubble Gum, and the Harvest-Gold and the Yellow-Orange colored pencils. 

While she considered her options, Randi let her legs swing restlessly under the kitchen table so that her slippers flopped back and forth with a gentle swooshing sound. She was wearing her warmest, fuzziest socks. So when one slipper lost its fight with gravity and tumbled to the floor, she wasn’t concerned. It was, in Randi’s opinion, the only good thing about being ill. She was allowed to wear her pajamas and robe all day long without being called “slovenly” by her father.

With a heavy sigh, Randi chose the orchid-colored pencil and carefully began to print the word “bike”. 

“Are you okay, Peanut?” 

Randi looked up at Ray and nodded. “This is boring,” she complained. “I don’t know why I have to do it. I’m sick!”

Ray crouched beside the chair and smiled. He ran one hand across Randi’s head, pushing her bangs out of her eyes for her. “You know why,” he said. His calloused hand brushed Randi’s forehead again and she knew that he was checking her temperature. “You’ve been out of school for nearly two weeks and won’t be going back for a while. You don’t want to get behind the other kids, do you?”

“But these words are dumb,” Randi said with disgust.

Ray laughed. “They are regular first-grade type spelling words.” He ruffled Randi’s hair affectionately. “It’s not your teacher’s fault that Mel taught them to you ages ago. You’re getting warm again,” Ray suddenly changed topics. “It’s almost time for your medicine.”

“Yuck,” Randi grimaced. “The green stuff is gross and it makes me shaky.”

Ray shrugged. “But it will make you better. Pneumonia is serious, Randi. We’ve talked about this.”

Randi sighed again. “I know. But it’s just not fair that I’m the only one who got sick.”

“No one said that life would be fair, kiddo.” Ray turned back to the kitchen counter and poured coffee into his big thermos. “You save someone’s life and you pay and pay and pay.”

“Chrissy is the one who should have gotten sick,” Randi whined. “She was the dumb-butt that fell through the ice.”

“Don’t say dumb-butt,” Ray said distractedly. “Your dad wouldn’t like it.”

Randi kicked her leg in frustration, flipping her other slipper across the room. Chrissy Holister was a dumb-butt. She was a year older than Randi but she’d been too stupid to know that the river ice in April shouldn’t be trusted. 

They had tried to stop her. Every day for a week, as everyone had walked home from school, Mel had warned them that the ice was thinning. Every day for a week, Chrissy had ignored the warnings and had safely walked across the river to get home. Then, on that day almost two weeks ago, the ice had fractured and Chrissy Holister had fallen into the frigid water.

Randi hadn’t been thinking when it happened. She had simply reacted and was on the ice, halfway to her fallen classmate before Mel’s screams had made her stop in her tracks. It was Mel who had been the one to think clearly. 

Mel, almost ten-years-old and practically a grown up in Randi’s eyes, had sent Bobby for help because he was the faster runner. She had ordered Randi to lie on her stomach, like Daddy had taught them. Crawling like a caterpillar, Randi had edged toward Chrissy and grabbed her by the coat. Chrissy had been screaming and flailing and Randi got soaking wet. 

“Don’t let go,” Mel had hollered. “Don’t you dare let go!” 

Randi had wrapped her arms around Chrissy and clasped her hands together, holding the other girl in a bear hug and squeezing her tight, tight, tight.

It wasn’t until later Randi found out that Mel hadn’t been yelling at her. Mel had instead been yelling to Mike who was lying on the ice behind Randi and holding onto her by the cuff of her snowpants.

When the first grown-ups arrived a few minutes later, Randi, her brother and her sister were all lying across the ice, screaming for help. Mel had hold of Mike, Mike was clutching at Randi’s leg, and Randi still had Chrissy in a bear hug. 

At first everything had seemed to turn out fine. They were pulled off the ice and wrapped in warm blankets. Chrissy’s mother cried a lot. The mayor shook all their hands and their picture was in the paper. Daddy and Ray had both been very proud. The next day, Randi had started to cough. 

Randi didn’t remember the worst of it. Mike had told her that her fever had gotten really high. So high in fact that she had started to twitch and cry about the dogs on her bed, even though none of the dogs had been in the house at the time. 

It had been frightening to wake up in the clinic with no recollection of how she’d gotten there. Randi’s back hurt, her chest had felt like someone was sitting on her and her throat had been on fire. But the scariest part had been to find her Daddy slumped in a chair beside the bed. He’d looked awful, with his hair sticking up and his clothes rumpled. His beard darkened his cheeks and there were deep circles under his eyes.

When he woke up and saw Randi staring at him, Daddy had smiled. He had left his chair and edged onto the bed beside Randi. He curled her in his arms and kissed her hair again and again. “You’ll be okay,” he had whispered. “You are going to be fine.” He repeated it over and over. “You’re going to be okay.” 

Randi knew then that her father had been very frightened indeed.

Now Randi was well enough to be home but still sick enough to feel achy and out of sorts. Home was good, because Ray was here and Randi had missed him terribly during the few days she was in the hospital. “Immediate family only” somehow meant that Ray couldn’t visit her there.

But it was getting boring to sit at home. Her brothers and sister were at school all day so there was no one to play with. Ray would get the board games out and they played Trouble and Parcheesi until they were both really sick of it. Mrs. Holister had brought the colored pencils the day Randi had come home from the hospital. But even the wonder of 64 colors had begun to dull. At this point, Randi just wanted to feel better. 

With a disgruntled sigh, Randi picked up the electric-green pencil and wrote out the word “edge”. As she pondered which blue to use for the word “cake”, Randi heard a commotion out front. The dogs in the barn began to bark excitedly. 

“Daddy’s home,” Ray sang. 

Randi grunted in acknowledgement. Ray frowned, wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and then pressed his wrist against Randi’s forehead, just as the front door opened. 

Randi saw her father’s frown as he took in the scene. “How is she doing?” he asked.

“Her temp is up a bit,” Ray answered. “But it’s not bad. She’s due for her meds in about twenty minutes.”

Her father took off his gloves and rubbed his hands together for a moment. Taking Randi’s face in his hands he kissed her gently on the forehead. 

“Do you want the thermometer?” Ray asked. 

“Not necessary.” Randi watched her father lick his lips and tilt his head thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s only up one and a half degrees. She’s fine.”

Ray gave a quick nod. They started to go through their changing-of-the-guard routine. 

“Right,” Ray said. “Dose her up in about twenty minutes. Fair warning, she’s cranky and bored and may fight you on the green stuff.”

Randi’s father smiled. “Ah. So we’re beginning to feel better then.”

Ray nodded in agreement. “I’ve got to give her credit,” he said. “She’s behaving way better than either of us would be in her situation.”

“None of us deals well with forced inactivity.”

“Right,” Ray continued. “Anyway, dinner is in the fridge. Just stick it in the oven for half an hour. Where are the kids?”

“I sent them to the barn to exercise the dogs.”

Randi blinked in confusion as her father sat in the chair to her left and sighed. He hadn’t taken off his coat or boots. He just sat there staring at the kitchen tabletop. 

“Frase?” Ray asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

Randi saw her father glance toward her furtively then shift his gaze to Ray. Then they did that thing that they could do, where they seemed to have an entire conversation just by looking at each other.

Randi felt a stab of concern as her father seemed to deflate. “I received this by special messenger,” he said, pulling a large envelope from his inner coat pocket. He offered the envelope to Ray. 

With a frown, Ray opened the envelope and quickly scanned its contents. “Damn,” he said softly. “Have you read it through?” He asked.

“Three times,” was the reply. “It is pretty straight-forward.”

“What does she want?” Ray asked.

“Nothing… Just my signature.”

“What is it?” Randi was almost afraid to ask.

“Divorce papers,” Ray replied bluntly. “She must want to get hitched again.”

“Ray,” Randi glanced at her father as he spoke. She recognized the tone of warning in his voice. 

“You said you didn’t want to keep anything from them,” Ray said. “You wanted to be completely honest whenever they asked about her.”

“It’s from Mommy?” Randi asked. She slid off her chair and shuffled to Ray’s side. When she reached toward the paper, Ray handed it to her. It was four pages of very small, closely typed words, only some of which Randi could understand. Most of the words were long and made no sense but she knew one of the big bold words at the top. “D-i-v-o-r-c-e.”

Randi handed the papers back to Ray, not sure what she was supposed to say about it. It didn’t mean anything to her. Randi had seen pictures of her mother but couldn’t really remember her. Mel had explained a long time ago that their mother was never coming back.

As Ray handed the paperwork back to her father, Randi climbed back onto her chair. 

“What do you want to do?” Ray asked him.

“What else is there?” he replied. “I’ll sign. I’ll sign it now and you can put it in the mail on your way to work. At least we can put one worry behind us. She’s giving me full custody.” 

“Thank god,” Ray said as he patted his pockets looking for a pen. A moment later, Ray’s battered old silver pen was lobbed across the room. Randi smiled when her daddy plucked it out of the air without even looking. 

The room fell silent as Randi watched her father solemnly sign the pages. 

“There. Done,” he said, shoving the sheets of paper away.

“Are you okay?” Ray asked.

“We knew it was coming to this.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, Benton-buddy.”

Randi hopped off of her chair and moved to her father’s side. She eased her way onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He seemed to need a hug right now and Randi was glad to give it to him. 

He kissed the top of her head and told Ray, “You realize this means that I’m back on the ‘market’.”

“What?” Ray looked shocked.

“That is what Constable Petrie said.” Randi felt her father’s heavy sigh blow through her hair. “And I quote, ‘It is good news to hear that you’re back on the market. You could even get married again’.” 

“Good grief,” Ray said, rolling his eyes.

“The woman is insane.”

Randi looked up at her father and said, “You should marry Ray, Daddy.”

Randi flinched as Ray’s lunch pail clattered to the floor and her father sputtered in surprise.

“Miranda,” her father exclaimed. “Whatever do you mean?”

It seemed to make perfectly good sense to Randi. “I mean that you should marry Ray,” she repeated. “He could have come to see me at the clinic if you were married. And he could sign our permission slips for school. Charlie Franklin has a stepmother that signs his slips all the time.”

Principal Whitefeather was terribly strict about such things. Only custodial parents and step-parents could sign paperwork for school. Randi didn’t know why. If Ray could sign, it would make things so much easier sometimes.

“Your dad doesn’t want to marry me, Peanut,” Ray said tenderly. He crouched down and began to pick up the items he had just dropped.

“Why not?” Randi frowned accusingly at her father. 

“I… Well I,” her father stuttered with surprise. “I’m not sure. Why not, Ray?” He asked. Randi could see the twinkle of laughter in her father’s face that meant he was teasing, but Randi didn’t understand why it was funny.

Evidently, neither did Ray. “Don’t Fraser, just don’t.” He slammed his lunchbox onto the counter with more force than was necessary. 

“I’m sorry, Ray. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ray sighed. “I know,” he replied quietly. “It’s okay. But we should not joke about something as important as this.”

“But I meant it,” Randi urged. “You should marry Ray, Daddy. He takes care of us and we take care of him. And Ray won’t ever leave us.”

Ray crossed the kitchen and knelt at Randi’s side. He put his arms around her, hugging her close. “You’re right, Baby. I won’t ever leave. Married or not, I’m here to stay.”

“For ever and ever, right?” Randi asked. 

“That’s right,” Ray agreed. “And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Maybe we should, Ray,” Randi glanced up at her father as he spoke. “Perhaps it would provide a symbol of permanence for the children.” 

Ray sighed heavily and stood up. “Look, I know that Mike’s abandonment issues are leaking onto the other kids. But I just can’t do that.”

“You don’t want to be married to a man?”

“What I want has nothing to do with it,” Ray said sadly.

“Nonsense, Ray,” Randi was lifted from her father’s lap as he stood. He gracefully swung her back down onto the chair as he continued. “What you want is important. You know how much you mean to us but we would never want to keep you from pursuing a life of your own, a family of your own.”

Ray looked as if someone had slapped him. Randi held her breath as she watched the emotions flash across his face. Anger, shock and hurt seemed to blend together until Ray finally tilted his head and stared in wonder at her father. 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he said gently. Ray shook his head sadly and took the two steps he needed to cross the distance between them. 

“It seems not,” Randi heard her father say quietly.

“Ben,” Ray placed one hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “I already have a family. This is my family and these are my kids.” Randi smiled as Ray winked in her direction. “Anyone who says any different is going to get a kick in the head. Especially you.”

As Randi watched, Ray curled one hand around the back of her father’s neck and stroked his nape in a soothing caress. “We’re good,” Ray whispered. “You don’t want to get married again, not to me.”

“But I,” 

“But nothing,” Ray cut off any protest. “Married to me, there would be expectations that I don’t think you’ve considered. Things I consider to be nonnegotiable in a marriage.”

Randi knew that the frown of confusion on her face matched her father’s. The worried glance Ray shot in her direction increased her puzzlement.

“Frase,” Ray said in exasperation. “I know you get what I’m talking about. It’s that thing married people do in locked bedrooms. The one that gets you four kids?”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, Oh.” Ray chuckled ruefully. 

Randi still wasn’t sure what they were talking about, and her father looked shocked.

“And you would want that?” he blinked. His mouth opened and closed a few times but there were no more words.

“Yeah, I would. I’ve wanted it for a long time, to be perfectly honest.” Ray said. “But I know that the thought has never crossed your mind. You’ve never thought of me that way, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask it of you. By the same logic, you can’t ask me to be in a marriage where there is no… Where we never… won’t. You know what I mean.”

“Yes, Ray. I know what you mean.”

“Good.” Ray pulled away suddenly and brought his hands together in a single loud clap. “So we’re good, right?””

“Of course, Ray.”

“Dammit,” Ray gasped. “I’m going to be late.” He sped around the room like a whirlwind, gathering his things as he prepared to leave. “Dinner – Fridge. Dose the kid. I’ll be home before midnight.”

Ray bent over the table and kissed Randi on the forehead. “Behave, Peanut.”

A moment later, Ray was gone.

It was very late when Ray returned home from work. Randi had taken her medicine without complaint and her father had been very tolerant while the effects ran through her system. There had been a minor incident involving a broken plate when Randi had engaged her brothers in a loud and frenzied game of tag just as Daddy was clearing the dinner table.

But the jittery side-effects of the medication had worn off about an hour ago. Randi’s siblings had been sent off to bed and her father sat quietly at the kitchen table with a book in his hands. Randi was crashed on the couch, dozing in that twilight place, not really awake and yet not totally asleep. She could hear the fire crackling in the hearth and through half-closed eyes she could see her father clearly. 

When the front door opened and Ray entered, Randi wanted to greet him, to sit up and welcome him home. But her limbs were as heavy as lead and she could not move them. She was too near sleep do more than twitch.

Moving quietly, Ray removed his coat and boots, placing them in their proper places by the door. He crouched beside the couch to check on Randi and tucked her blanket around her shoulders. 

“How is she?” Ray asked in a low voice.

“Fine,” Randi’s father replied. “I’ve kept your dinner warm.” 

Ray stood and went to the table just as a bowl of food was placed in front of him. “You didn’t need to wait up, Fraser,” he said.

“I wanted to,” was the reply. Randi could see Ray at the table as he began to eat. Her father took the seat to his right. “I…,” he began. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure, Frase. What about?”

“Well,” Randi watched as her father rubbed at one eyebrow and cleared his throat. “I wanted to continue our conversation.”

Ray sighed heavily and pushed his bowl away. “You can’t just let this go, I suppose.”

“No.” Randi could see her father’s hands clasped in front of him. He seemed almost nervous. But that made no sense to Randi. After taking a deep breath, he continued. “You were quite right, Ray. I have never considered the potential of engaging in physical intimacy with a man, any man.”

“And I’m not asking you to,” Ray argued.

“Please wait, Ray.” Randi’s father reached out and grasped Ray’s hand. “Let me finish.”

Ray nodded. 

“The thought had never occurred to me before, but it has now. I’ve been able to think of little else all evening.” With sigh he continued. “I’ve been sitting here since the children went to sleep, thinking about it a great deal.”

“Please don’t be freaked, Fraser,” Ray begged.

“But I am. I am ‘freaked’, Ray.” 

“Fraser,” Ray gasped. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not angry.” Randi’s father shook his head, “I’m unsettled yes, but not in the way you may think. The thought of being…intimate, physically intimate, with someone who loves me so completely, someone I trust without reserve… The idea of being with someone who knows me, really knows me, knows every fault, every scar, every imperfection…”

“I know you,” Ray said with a nod.

“Yes, you do. And the concept of … being with… well, you Ray, and experiencing our duet on a physically intimate level is quite frankly, an incredibly alluring prospect.”

Ray smiled sadly. “In your brain, it sounds like a good idea, Frase,” he said. “But that doesn’t always translate into other parts, if you know what I mean.” Ray shot a worried glance toward Randi lying on the couch. 

“She’s asleep, Ray.” 

Ray gazed intently at their clasped hands on the tabletop. “Do you think you could get it up for me, Ben?” he whispered.

“Only one way to find out,” Randi’s father whispered back. He then leaned forward and kissed Ray tenderly, gently licking at his bottom lip. The kiss seemed to go on for a long time, so long in fact that Randi began to think that perhaps she was dreaming. 

But when the kiss ended, the two men were grinning at each other. “Well,” Ray said wryly. “I guess that answers our question.” 

“Hm, yes,” was the drawled reply. “Answers it quite indisputably I believe.” 

“Come on,” Ray said, abruptly standing and pulling his partner to his feet. “Let’s go test the lock on your bedroom door.” He stopped in mid-turn to gaze affectionately at Randi. “We should put her to bed,” he said, gesturing toward her with their still clasped hands.

“You risk waking her,” Randi’s father murmured as he nuzzled the back of Ray’s neck.

Ray sighed happily. “Don’t want to wake her,” he purred. “She’ll be fine.”

“Agreed.” The two men walked out of Randi’s line of sight.

A moment later, the few lights in the room went out. Randi heard the snick of a closing door and then all went quiet. The dying embers in the fireplace crackled. As Randi finally slipped passed the last veil of consciousness, she heard a sound that seemed very far away. It was her father’s laughter chasing her into slumber. 

 

####  **Melinda Rae Fraser – August 1st, 2016**

Mel stared out the front windshield of the GTO. The house drawing her attention was very large, white with brown trim. Tudor style if memory served. The lawn was perfectly trimmed and a deep dark green that probably meant it was regularly watered and fertilized. This place was so different from Mel’s own home that it seemed unreal, like something out of a movie. 

Putting a hand to her hair, Mel glanced toward the driver’s seat. “Maybe I should wear my hair down,” she frowned. “A ponytail makes me look like a kid.”

“Sweetheart,” Ray reached out and caressed the long, dark braid that ran down her back. “You look fine. You look beautiful.”

Mel smiled. “You always say that, Ray.”

“It’s always true,” he replied. “Besides, you are a kid.” 

“I’m fifteen.”

“And?” Ray grinned in a way that told Mel he was teasing her. “Look,” he said, suddenly serious. ”You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” Mel insisted. “We’ve come all this way.”

Ray shrugged. “If we turn back now, we never have to mention this to your dad. We just came to Edmonton to see the concert. No fuss.”

Mel frowned, “You wouldn’t tell him the truth?” 

“What truth?” Ray argued. “We saw a great concert last night. We had fun.”

After a moment’s thought Mel shook her head. “No. I need to do this or I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering.”

“We’ll have to tell the others when we get back.” 

“I know.” She gazed down at the photograph in her hand. It was a good picture, taken a few months ago at the twins’ birthday party. The twins were in front, each holding an edge of the cake. Mel and Mike stood in back, making bunny ears with their fingers behind their younger siblings’ heads. They were all smiling and hamming it up for the camera. 

“Okay then,” Ray took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Mel replied with a nervous laugh. “But we can’t sit here all day. Let’s go.” Grabbing the door handle she practically threw herself out of the car. As she crossed the street on a diagonal toward the house, she felt Ray’s reassuring touch at the small of her back.

She strode quickly up the walk leading to the front entrance and rang the doorbell with a shaking hand. The next minute was the longest of Mel’s life as she waited. Just as she began to consider pressing the bell a second time, there was the sound of latches turning and the door opened.

A lovely woman stood on the threshold with a vague smile on her face. She was very well dressed considering it was barely noon on a Saturday. Her hair was dyed-blond and was neatly coiffed, falling just to her shoulders. Around her neck was a gold chain from which dangled a deep purple gem of some kind. In her ears sparkled jewelry with matching purple stones. 

Mel took in all these facts at a glance. With a deep breath she allowed herself to gaze at the woman’s face. 

The brows were thinner, and she wore makeup over a slightly tanned face. But this was the face that Mel had seen in the photographs on the mantle at home. This was, without a doubt, the woman Mel had come to meet. 

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

“Hello,” Mel stammered.

The woman showed no sign of recognition and blinked at Mel in confusion. 

Ray took a half step forward, drawing the woman’s attention. “Hello Melissa,” he said softly.

“Ray!” the woman gasped. Mel watched in fascination as the blood drained from the woman’s face and her skin paled to an alarming shade of white. She looked as though she would faint. “What are you doing here? 

With a frightened glance toward the interior of the house, she stepped onto the doorstep and pulled the door nearly closed behind her. “You can’t be here!” she hissed. 

“I’m Melinda,” Mel began.

Her mother paid no attention to Mel at all. She directed her suddenly furious gaze toward Ray. “Are you crazy? Why would you do this to me?”

Mel could hear the barely controlled tone of violence in Ray’s voice as he spoke. “Your daughter wanted to see you.”

The woman grimaced and glanced furtively back into the house. “I have no children,” she whispered. 

“Jesus, Melissa, have a heart,” Ray growled. 

She looked at Mel sadly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a different life, a different person. I was too young to know what I wanted from my life. Now please go.”

Mel felt cold inside. In a flash of intuition she said, “Your new family doesn’t know anything about us, do they?”

“My husband and I are happy,” Melissa said. 

“Tell me, Mrs. Dublin,” Mel asked in a voice that cracked with tension. “Do I have any half-brothers or sisters?”

“No,” was the reply. “We’ve never wanted children.”

“Honey,” came a voice from inside. “Who is it?”

“No one, Dear,” Mel watched her mother lie with ease. “It’s just a young lady selling magazine subscriptions.” 

Mel swallowed hard and tried to stop shaking. She couldn’t decide which was worse, the shock or the anger. 

“Sweetheart,” Ray murmured in her ear. “Go on back to the car. I need to talk to Mrs. Dublin for a moment.”

She nodded and turned back the way she had come. She didn’t look back until she had reached the GTO. 

Mel frowned at the sight of Ray as he spoke to her mother. His body language was odd. He had a strange hunched look to him like he was about to get slapped. As the two adults continued to talk, Ray’s stance changed, he straightened suddenly and glanced back toward the car where Mel waited. 

Mel watched as the woman ducked back into the house only to reappear a moment later. She handed something to Ray who replied with a rapid nod. Then Ray was nearly running down the sidewalk in Mel’s direction. 

“What did she give you?” Mel asked as he reached her side. 

“Get in,” Ray ordered as he climbed into the car.

Mel went around the front of the GTO and slid into the passenger seat. 

“What did she give you?” Mel repeated after the car had sped away from the curb.

“A business card,” Ray answered. “She wants any future contact to be through her office rather than her personal residence.”

Mel snorted. “She has no need to worry about that,” she said. “I’ll never want to talk to her again.” She gazed at the photograph still clutched in her hand. Her breath shook from her lungs in a wavering sigh. “She doesn’t want us at all,” she whispered. 

Ray abruptly pulled the car to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. By the time Mel lost her battle against the tears, Ray had her wrapped in a warm embrace. 

“She didn’t even look at the picture,” Mel sobbed. “She wasn’t even curious.”

“Hush now, sweetheart,” Ray purred into her hair.

Mel let go of the tight rein on her emotions and let it all flow from her in a rush. Anger and pain mingled together and she wept. She wept even harder when she realized she was going to have to find a way to tell her brothers and her sister what had happened. 

For several minutes she cried while Ray just rocked her back and forth. 

Her sobs were subsiding into occasional sniffles when Ray sighed and murmured, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now.” He shook his head sadly. “I should say something supportive. I should say that I wish I could make this better for you. But I can’t say that. I won’t.”

Mel looked up at him with a confused frown.

Ray caressed her cheek and whispered, “Every wonderful thing I have in my life, everything important to me, I have because she left.”

“Oh Ray,” Mel gasped.

“I know it sucks to have been raised without a mother. And I know that I am a sad and sorry substitute. But every single day, I thank God that she walked out. She had everything and she threw it away.” Ray cupped Mel’s cheeks between his calloused hands. “She must be crazy to toss aside such greatness.”

Mel burst into tears again. Clinging tightly to her step-father she bawled into his shirt.

“I love you, Baby,” he murmured. “You are the center of my world; you kids and your dad. I hate like hell that you are hurting right now, but I cannot for the life of me wish that things had been any different.”

“No,” Mel sobbed. “I couldn’t imagine what life would be like without you, Ray. I love you so much. And you are not a substitute for anything.”

Ray squeezed Mel tightly. “Hey, I can make cupcakes just as good as those other PTA moms.”

Mel’s laughter bubbled through her tears. “They were really terrible cupcakes Ray,” she said with a watery chuckle.

“They couldn’t have been that bad,” Ray argued with an affectionate smile. “They were gone by the time the bake sale ended.”

“Dad bought them all,” Mel confessed.

“Yeah,” Ray nodded. “I know. But don’t tell him that.”

They sat together for a long time, Ray drawing soothing circles on Mel’s back as her sniffles died away. “Are you going to be okay?” Ray asked several minutes later.

“Yeah,” Mel nodded. “Let’s just go home.”

They were on the move again and Ray was just maneuvering the GTO onto the highway when a thought belatedly occurred to Mel. With a frown she voiced her puzzlement. “Why would she give you her office number if she wants nothing to do with us?”

Ray swallowed hard and slanted a guilty glance toward her. “I asked her for it,” he admitted.

“That makes no sense,” Mel argued. “She was ready to throw us off her porch, why would she allow further contact?”

“It’s nothing. Emergency contact stuff,” Ray said. “No big deal.”

Mel stared intently at her step-father. She knew there was more to this than he was revealing. She watched him carefully for a full minute before the truth blossomed in her brain with a sudden clarity. “You did it!” Mel gasped. “You asked her!”

“Asked her what?” Ray replied with a sudden nervousness.

“You’re going to send her the adoption papers,” Mel stated confidently. “And she is going to sign them.”

“How did you guess that?” Ray asked.

Mel grinned. “You haven’t raised any dummies, Detective.”

Ray reached out and took Mel’s hand in his. “Legally, we don’t really need them, you know. Your Dad and I have had all the custody documents sorted out for years.” He sighed. “But I want them. I want to say ‘these are my kids’ and know that nobody can argue technicalities with me.” He tugged on Mel’s hand for emphasis. “I want more than ‘custodial rights’.”

Mel flicked off her seatbelt and slid to Ray’s side, crushing him in a fierce embrace. “A stupid piece of paper won’t make that any more true than it already is,” she said. “But it will still be freaking awesome.”

“Greatness,” Ray agreed. He kissed the top of her head quickly before turning his attention back to the road. “Now put your seatbelt back on. Your father will kill me if he finds out this car was moving while you were any less than fully secured in the safety restraints.” 

Mel moved back to the passenger seat with a giddy laugh. “I could start calling you ‘Dad’,” she observed.

Ray shook his head with amusement. “You’ve already got a Dad.”

Mel’s smile grew wider. “I could call you ‘Mom’,” she teased.

“Good grief,” Ray snorted. “Do I look like a mother to you?”

Mel laughed. “You look like a Ray. Our very own Ray.” She reached over and poked him affectionately in the arm. “You’ve always been our Ray.” 

Ray reached out and took her hand again. “And I always will be, Sweetheart. I always will be.”

 

####  **Harold Olivier Callahan – July 3rd – 4th, 2032**

“Well Constable, it seems that the doctors think you’ll survive this incident.”

“It would seem so, Sir,” Cal stood at rigid attention and tried to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. The sling holding his left arm immobile was tickling against his neck. He focused on that small irritation to distract himself from the pain.

“They’ve put you on medical leave for at least two weeks,” the Inspector said. “I’ll expect you back the same day your partner returns from his vacation. And you’d better have a medical release in hand by then. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” In the emergency room in the wee hours of this morning, a doctor had told Cal he’d be off duty for a while. So this news was no surprise.

But the next words spoken by Cal’s superior officer were downright shocking.

“You’ll be receiving a commendation for this Constable.”

“What?” Cal was stunned. “No sir, I don’t deserve it. Fraser was the one who caught Smithers and his gang. I just happened to get in the way. I don’t deserve recognition just because I got myself shot.”

“That is not the way your partner described the incident, Constable.” The Inspector frowned at Cal. “Constable Fraser says that you put yourself in the gunman’s path, protecting not only your partner, but also the hostages he was attempting to free. Are you telling me that isn’t what happened?” 

“Well yes,” Cal admitted. “Technically that is what happened. But I wouldn’t say it that way exactly. I wasn’t thinking about saving the hostages. I just… well I just reacted, Sir.”

“And your actions saved lives,” the Inspector added. “Well done.”

“Yes, sir,” Cal replied in a small voice. How could he explain the selfishness that had caused him to react the way he had? The only conscious thought driving him over the last ten days had been the deep need to simply not screw this up. 

Cal had been a Mountie for six years and in that time, he’d had seven different partners. Constable Mike Fraser was partner number eight. Cal had barely made it through Depot. He’d only gotten into the program because of his family’s connections. And now he was partnered with a Mountie from a long line of legendary Mounties. Cal was just trying not to embarrass himself too much.

“Now then,” the Inspector continued. “I’ve been in contact with Ottawa.”

Cal fought down the groan building in his chest. 

“Your father’s administrative assistant sent your travel itinerary.” The Inspector handed Cal a single sheet of paper. Cal took it without a glance. “Safe travels, Constable.”

“Yes sir,” Cal replied automatically. 

Once Cal had been dismissed from his superior’s office he went straight to the barracks and the room he’d been calling home for just under two weeks. The room was small and sparsely furnished with the two cots, two end tables and a single desk between them. It wasn’t much, beige and sterile, but it was where Cal currently kept his stuff so it was as much a home for him as any other place he’d ever lived.

Cal sighed and slumped wearily against the door as it closed behind him.

Only then did Cal look at the sheet of paper that the Inspector had given him a few minutes ago. “God,” Cal groaned aloud. He punctuated his displeasure by banging the back of his head against the door a few times.

That was when Cal’s new partner stepped from behind the open closet door. Fraser stood looking at him curiously but said nothing. “Nice going moron,” Cal thought to himself. “He’s going to think you’re a mental case…even more so than he already does.”

Fraser was wearing casual clothes but held his dress uniform on a hanger in one hand. In the other he held his shaving kit. Even in jeans and a flannel shirt, the man looked like a recruiting poster. His posture was ramrod straight and his dark hair was perfectly combed.

‘Starched’ was the word that kept popping into Cal’s mind to describe his new partner. Fraser was terribly handsome, with classic good looks, dark wavy hair and incredibly blue eyes. Women practically drooled on the guy and Cal, whose sexual preference had been on a swinging door since puberty, couldn’t really blame them. Whenever they went anywhere together, Cal with his red hair and slightly freckled face, felt like the poor, awkward sidekick from one of those classically old Harry Potter movies. 

But Fraser had an uptight, standoffish air to him that made him seem untouchable. He was always excruciatingly polite and gave everyone around him his undivided but decidedly reserved attention. It made Cal want to mess the guy up a little, wrinkle him a bit. 

Cal hadn’t expected his partner’s armor to crack in the spectacular way it had just before dawn this morning. When Cal had been shot, Fraser had reacted not only with a scream that their backup heard from three blocks away but also a string of murmured curses that would have made Cal blush if he hadn’t been pale with shock. It hadn’t lasted long. By the time backup had arrived and paramedics were on the scene, Fraser’s stiff outer shell had returned. 

“I thought you’d left,” Cal said.

Fraser shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ll be leaving within the hour.”

They stood staring at each other for a long uncomfortable moment. With no idea of what else to say, Cal fluttered the paper in Fraser’s direction. “It seems that I’ll be off myself.”

“Ah,” Fraser’s voice seemed to drip with disappointment.

With a sigh, Cal moved to his cot and sat down, being careful not to jostle his throbbing arm. 

“I gather,” Fraser said haltingly. “That you are not enthusiastic about your current travel plans?”

“It’s an election year,” Cal moaned. 

“I see,” Fraser replied, though his tone indicated that he did not.

“There’s only one thing that looks better on a campaign stage than a Mountie in full dress uniform,” Cal complained. “And that is a wounded Mountie in full dress uniform.”

It was no secret that Cal’s adopted father was none other than The Gordon Callahan, Member of Parliament elected to the House of Commons for the last five consecutive terms. Far less public was the knowledge that Cal’s mother had been the drug-addicted, runaway younger sister of Gordon Callahan. 

Few people knew that Cal had been born addicted to a number of hallucinogens and had spent the first dozen years of his life bouncing in and out of foster care. When he was thirteen, Cal’s mother had died and he had been adopted by his uncle and aunt. He had suddenly been thrust from a life of poverty into a world of politics and privilege. He had never managed to adapt, despite years of trying. He had always felt out of place, like an imposter in his own life.

Cal glared at the detailed list he’d been given. He noted that a driver would soon arrive to deliver him to the transport station. Then there was a first class shuttle to the capitol where he’d been scheduled for a number of public appearances. God – there was even an interview with a local news station he’d be forced to suffer through.

“Fuck,” Cal’s hand clenched into a fist, mangling the paper as he did so. 

Fraser cleared his throat nervously. 

Cal glanced up at his partner and caught him rubbing at one eyebrow with the back of his thumb. “What? You think I’m being an ungrateful brat?” Cal nearly growled. “You have no damned clue what it’s like to spend your life as a political campaign ad.”

“Perhaps you could make alternate travel plans,” Fraser said in an overly cautious tone. 

Cal frowned. “Alternate plans?”

Fraser took a deep breath and said, “Perhaps you should accompany me.”

Cal blinked at him for a moment. “Fraser, you’re going home for your brother’s wedding.”

“Well yes, Cal,” Fraser replied. “I thought you may enjoy a trip north.”

“You thought I’d enjoy a trip north,” Cal repeated. He shook his head suddenly. “Fraser, you don’t ask someone to a family function like that on the strength of ten day’s acquaintance.”

“Why not?”

“Well because!” Cal hopped up from the bed and started to pace. “You don’t even know me. I could be an axe murderer or something.”

“Now that’s just silly, Cal.” Fraser told him calmly. “You had to have passed a personality profile in order to join the RCMP. Serial killer tendencies would, I’m sure, exclude your application from consideration.”

“You are certifiable,” Cal told him. “Do you know that?”

“Constable Callahan,” Fraser continued formally. “Would you join me on a trip to the Territories?”

“You know nothing about me,” Cal repeated.

Fraser smiled. “That’s not true,” his voice was warm and affectionate. “I know quite a lot. I know enough.

I know that you are a fine police officer though a bit unorthodox.” Fraser went on. “The equal number of reprimands and commendations in your file attest to that.”

“You read my file?” Cal asked.

Fraser continued without answering. “Seeing as my own career has been what some would call atypical, I feel that in this aspect you and I are well suited. I know that your adopted father is a politician of some renown and that you attended one of the country’s most prestigious private schools.”

Cal frowned. “Is that in my file?” he asked. An icy tendril of dread slithered through Cal’s gut. How much information was in that file? Was there any reference to the difficulties he’d had in that fancy school? Did it list the tutors and extra coursework he’d endured to make up for the neglected early years of his education, when he’d moved at least once every term? Did it reveal that he’d never really caught up to his peers and had only barely graduated?

“I found your bio online,” Fraser explained. 

Cal felt his tension ease. That would have been the bio on his uncle’s web-site. Everything found there was intended for use by the news media and was meant to make him look good. “You are a real nosy parker, aren’t you?” he observed.

“One should know the mettle of the man who will be watching one’s back for the next indeterminate length of time. Besides,” Fraser continued. “There is a great deal more that I have learned for myself these last ten days.

You are an excellent shot, a fact we learned that first day at the shooting range.” 

“I was on the national team at the ’22 Olympics,” Cal confessed.

Fraser nodded, “And you won a bronze medal.” His smile broadened as he went on. “You have a wry, though self-depreciating, sense of humor and a tenacity that I find rather refreshing.”

“Refreshing?” Cal echoed with some surprise. No one had ever found his obsessiveness to be refreshing.

“I have, myself, a reputation for being somewhat persistent in my pursuit of justice.” Fraser stared at the floor suddenly as though embarrassed. “I’ve been partnered with a number of other officers since leaving Depot. In the past, when I’ve gotten caught up in a case like this one, others have allowed me to continue even when they have given up. But you,” Fraser’s gaze snapped up to meet Cal’s directly. “You were right there with me. You argued and pushed and fought at my side. You didn’t fall behind or struggle to keep pace with me. You were right there all along.”

“It wasn’t easy keeping up with you,” Cal admitted. 

“But you did it,” Fraser said. “Many would not have even tried.”

“You’re a nut, Fraser,” Cal argued. “You are trying to make it sound like I’m some kind of hero. But the truth is that I’m a colossal screw up.”

“You are not,” Fraser denied in a clipped voice. “You stepped in front of a bullet for me this morning, on the strength of ten days’ acquaintance. I do not think you are a screw up. I’m afraid that this is to be one more thing that you and I disagree upon, my friend.”

Cal smiled, he couldn’t help himself. 

Fraser smiled back. “Come with me,” he urged. 

Call looked down at the piece of paper he still held. He really did not want to go to Ottawa. He really did not want to go back to that overly decorated, coldly austere house that his adopted family called home. And truth be told, Cal really wanted to spend more time with his strangely encouraging partner. 

It was dangerous. Cal knew that he was already far too enamored of his partner, overly attracted to Fraser’s good looks and oddly subtle sense of humor. The smart move would be to put some distance between them, to let this weird synergy have some time to cool down. But then, Cal had never been known for being one who did the smart thing.

“I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble,” Cal hedged.

Fraser seemed to interpret that statement as an affirmative. “No trouble at all,” he assured with a grin. In a sudden flurry of motion he turned back to the closet and grabbed Cal’s duffle from the shelf. “We haven’t much time,” he said as he began shoving several of Cal’s shirts into the bag. 

What followed over the next several hours was a series of minor travel miracles as Cal managed to arrange for a ticket along every leg of their journey. They made it to every connecting flight, even though the connection to Inuvik had been delayed for nearly an hour. When they had finally landed Cal had voiced his dismay. They were twenty minutes late for their flight from Inuvik to Fort McPherson. 

Fraser had simply smiled. 

Once they had buckled themselves into the tiny two-seater that would fly them the final leg to Fraser’s hometown, Cal punched him in the arm. “You could have told me you knew the pilot, you goofball.”

Fraser shrugged. “I knew Dave would wait for us. It’s the courteous thing to do.” 

The pilot had laughed. “No way was I going to McPherson today without you Mike. Your father would have killed me.”

There hadn’t even been much in the way of turbulence. As a matter of fact, the only real issue during the entire twenty-two hour trip had been during the boarding process in Whitehorse. A woman in the seat behind Cal had dropped her bag from the overhead bin, striking Cal on his wounded shoulder. The pain had been blinding. He had greyed out for a moment and spent the next several minutes trying not to be sick.

Cal had managed to choke down one of the pain pills the doctors had given him and then passed out for several hours. He had absolutely no memory of the layover in Dawson City. Fraser had steered him around like a sleepy toddler and then teased him politely but unmercifully about it once Cal had regained full consciousness. 

Cal had to admit that the medication had done him a world of good. It had been a rough couple of days in pursuit of Smithers. Traveling with a throbbing shoulder was no picnic either. It was well into the afternoon of the following day before Cal found himself stepping off the plane in Fort McPherson.

Cal stretched aching muscles, careful not to pull at his sore shoulder. “We probably could have come by car a lot faster,” he complained.

Fraser shrugged as he collected their bags. “In good weather, the distance can be driven in a comparable amount of time but only if you drive through the night and stop only briefly along the way.”

Cal shrugged. “Maybe we’ll try it next time,” he said.

Fraser’s face broke into a grin. “I would enjoy that.”

Fraser was thanking the pilot and exchanging a few final pleasantries when Cal noticed a young woman approaching. She had short dark hair curling around an attractive, make-up free face. She wore a light blue cotton shirt, well-worn jeans and a pair of hiking boots. As she smiled at him, Cal knew immediately that he was looking at another Fraser.

Cal held out his hand and said, “Hi. I’m Cal Callahan. You must be Randi.”

The woman laughed delightedly. “You’ve been well briefed,” she replied and stepped passed his proffered handshake to wrap him in a hug.

Cal laughed with her and returned the embrace with his one functioning arm. “There was a quiz,” he admitted. 

“Of course there was,” she said. “My brother is a big fan of proper preparation.”

“I thought it might ease Cal’s nerves to be well-informed,” Fraser added. His sister laughed again and greeted him with a hug as well.

As they started toward a jeep parked nearby Randi asked, “What’s to be nervous about?”

“I’m about to meet the legendary Sergeant Benton Fraser,” Cal answered with a groan. 

“Oh don’t worry about Dad,” she said. “The worst he’ll do is polite you to death. Ray however… Ray is different story.”

“You’ll have about a minute and a half to make a first impression on Ray,” Fraser cautioned. “After that, his opinion of you will be difficult to alter. But if Ray likes you, Dad will.”

“Now you tell me,” Cal huffed. 

“You’ll be fine,” Randi assured him. 

As they drove toward town, Cal went straight for the one topic he knew he had in common with this woman. “So,” he began. “Your brother tells me that you’re a Mountie, a sharp-shooter.” At Randi’s nod Cal asked with a smile, “Are you any good?”

“She’s better with a rifle than I am,” Fraser replied. With a wry tilt to his head he added, “She might be better than you.”

“Really?” Cal asked. “Wow, that’s impressive.”

“You’ve got a pretty healthy opinion of your own abilities don’t you, Callahan?” Randi said with a sarcastic drawl.

Cal sighed. “It’s the one thing I do really well,” he explained. “My one redeeming quality.”

Randi cocked one eyebrow at him. “Well I think you’ve got some other pretty impressive qualities, Constable.”

“Like what?” Cal asked with a frown.

“I don’t know yet,” Randi shrugged. “But Mike doesn’t bring just any old stray home with him, you know. Not even when we were kids.” 

Cal glanced questioningly at his partner. Fraser seemed to be studying something out the side window but Cal could see the tips of Fraser’s ears turning pink. Cal was missing something. He wasn’t sure what it was just yet, but there was definitely some subtext that had eluded him so far. He spent the next few minutes puzzling it out as Fraser and his sister chatted about familial things.

When the jeep pulled into a dirt driveway and pulled to a stop, Cal took a deep breath and surveyed the wooden cabin before him. The place had an aged but well-kept look to it, with painted shutters and a small porch. In the yard, there were several people sitting at or around a sturdy looking wooden table. The table had, no doubt, been dragged from its usual place in a kitchen somewhere. 

Cal quickly tried to identify people based on the descriptions Fraser had provided over the last couple of days. Fraser’s sister Mel was the easiest to pick out of the crowd. She was the only pregnant woman and there was a toddler tugging at her knees. Cal assumed that the man sitting at her side was her husband.

Across the table sat an older couple. Their bright linen clothes and well-tanned skin hinted that these were probably Fraser’s aunt and uncle from Florida. Standing beside the table was a tall dark-haired man with broad shoulders. He resembled Fraser closely enough that Cal figured they had to be related. The man had one arm wrapped possessively around a woman who seemed to be glowing with happiness. Cal guessed that this couple would be Cassie and Bob, the bride and groom.

To the left, there was a makeshift barbeque grill fashioned out of a large piece of metal. Two men stood over the grill with their backs toward the rest of the group so that Cal couldn’t see their faces. It was toward these two men that Fraser guided Cal as they climbed out of the car. 

Cal took a deep breath and held out his hand just as the two men turned toward him. Cal’s mouth opened with a gasp and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop the first words that tumbled from his lips. 

“Holy Crap!” Cal exclaimed. He found himself staring in shock at a mirror image of Fraser’s face. It was an older face, wrinkled and weathered with time. The hair was a steel grey and the rest of the body was thicker pretty much everywhere. But this was, without a doubt, an older version of the same face Cal had come to know over the last two weeks. When the older man grinned at him, Cal could see a twist in one tooth exactly like the one in his partner’s smile.

Cal’s surprise was so great that he couldn’t help but express it aloud once more. “Damn!” 

“There’s no need for invectives, Constable,” the older man said.

“Sorry, Sir,” Cal hurried to apologize. “It’s just that you look a hell of a lot like my partner.”

The older Fraser raised his eyebrows in amusement. “I prefer to think that he looks like me.”

Cal winced. “Right. Right, of course. Sorry, Sir.”

Fraser was laughing. Cal wanted to kill him. “Dad,” Fraser said. “This is my partner, Constable Harold Callahan. Cal, Sargent Benton Fraser, RCMP, retired.”

“It’s an honor, Sir,” Cal rushed to pick up the pieces of his dignity. 

“For me as well, young man,” Fraser the Elder replied. “I hear good things about you.”

“Someone’s obviously been lying to you, Sir,” Cal joked. 

“Cal,” Fraser went on as he turned toward the second man. “This is my step-father, Ray Kowalski.”

“Sir.” Cal nodded as the second man shook his hand. For a long moment, Cal could feel the intensity of the other man’s gaze. He wanted to squirm under such scrutiny. So Cal reacted the only way he’d ever learned, he stared right back. 

This man was of indeterminate age, he could have been anywhere from fifty to seventy years old. His hair was cut short, military style, and had an unidentifiable color that was a mix of silver-grey, light-brown and faded gold. It was as if someone had sprinkled his head with glitter a decade ago and then left the colors to run and fade in the elements.

Cal was suddenly very aware of the seconds ticking away and with each one that slipped by, he felt more like a moron. He swallowed hard and tried again to apologize for his outburst. “I’m hopeless. One doesn’t get a second chance to make a first impression and I’m blowing it big time, aren’t I?”

Ray’s face broke into a huge grin. “Nah, you’re fine. Besides,” Ray gestured toward the sling wrapped around Cal’s left arm. “That hole in your shoulder is going to buy you a world of second chances with me, Kid.” 

Fraser took Cal from person to person and introduced him to each member of the Fraser clan.

“Wait,” Ray interrupted as Cal was shaking the hand of Fraser’s two-year-old niece. “Your name is Harold? You’re a cop named Harry Callahan?”

Cal sighed. “Yeah, I am. As far as I know, my mother never heard of the Dirty Harry movies. It’s just a coincidence. But I don’t feel very lucky, so please don’t try to ‘make my day’.”

Ray put his hands in the air and abruptly stepped back as though Cal had just pulled a gun on him. “No, hey,” he replied. “No one here is going to make fun of your name. I can guarantee you that. People in glass houses you know?”

Cal didn’t understand and the frown on his face must have projected his confusion.

Fraser’s father explained. “Few in this family are known by our given names.”

Cal glanced at his partner in surprise. “Your name isn’t Michael?” he asked, bewildered. 

“No,” Fraser admitted. He sat down in one of the available wooden chairs, kicked the seat back onto two legs and propped his feet on a nearby tree stump. “Mycroft…but I don’t answer to it anymore. I’ve always been called Mike.”

“Or Mikey,” Ray added.

Cal sat down next to his partner and shook his head. “I’m stunned Fraser, just stunned,” Cal said with exaggerated sorrow. “Not even sharing your first name? It’s like I don’t even know you!” 

Fraser grinned at Cal’s teasing. “Oh I think you know me quite well, my friend,” he replied. “Better than most.”

Cal gave his partner an affection punch in the arm. “Same here.” Cal laughed as he eyed his partner carefully. “Hey, are you allowed to sit like that?” he asked. “With your spine all relaxed and bendy that way? I would think it impossible to do with the stick you usually have up your ass.”

“I left my stick in the barracks,” Fraser answered playfully. “I don’t need it here.”

“You never know,” Cal continued. “Proper preparation and all that. What if we get attacked by rogue caribou or feral lemmings or something?”

Fraser laughed in a joyous way that Cal really liked. “I’ll let Dad and Ray deal with any feral lemmings.”

Fraser’s step-father pointed a fork at them and frowned. “Laugh it up, boys,” he growled. “But if you don’t behave, you two will be on KP after dinner. And if you break that chair, Mike, you’ll build me another.”

“It won’t be the first time,” Fraser replied.

“True,” Ray smiled affectionately. He suddenly bent over and kissed the top of Fraser’s head. “Your chair building skills have improved over the years,” he admitted. As Ray straightened he did a little bounce and then danced back over to the barbeque.

“Ray,” Fraser’s father said. “I could fetch the radio if you want to dance.”

“I don’t need a radio to dance,” Ray answered with a cocky grin and a shimmy of his hips.

“But there’s no music.”

“Hey,” Ray said. He kissed the older man on the nose. “It is a beautiful day.” He gestured to the sky with the fork. “My kids are all at home. And we are about to eat meat, cooked over an open fire. Life is good.” Ray bounced gracefully. “And I hear music.” 

Several hours later, Cal was warm, well-fed and snuggled into one of the two beds in his partner’s boyhood bedroom. He stared at the ceiling through the bright midnight of an arctic summer. Moving his weight away from his wounded shoulder, Cal curled onto his right side and sighed with contentment. 

“Are you comfortable?” Fraser asked from the other bed a few feet away. 

Cal smiled as he gazed at his partner’s worried face. “I’m fine,” he replied. “It’s just that winding down can sometimes take me a few minutes.”

“I had noticed,” Fraser drawled as he turned on his side to face Cal.

“You have a nice family,” Cal told him.

“Thank you.” Fraser grinned. “I think so.”

“I think they like me,” Cal said, trying not to sound too unsure of the fact.

“I think you’re right,” was Fraser’s response.

“Except,” Cal frowned. “What was so funny about the window?”

“Hmm?” Fraser asked innocently.

“Earlier, your step-father said something about me being in trouble if I started going through a bunch of plate glass windows,” Cal remembered. “When I said that there had only been the one, everybody started laughing. What made it so funny?”

Fraser smiled indulgently. “It’s a long story and it’s very late. You’re tired.”

“No I’m not,” Cal denied, and then promptly proved he was a liar by yawning hugely. “Okay, okay. So talk until I fall asleep then.”

Fraser was quiet for along moment, long enough for Cal to feel as though he was pushing too hard. 

“If you want to, I mean,” Cal recanted. “You don’t have to if you’d rather not.”

“I want to,” Fraser said quickly. “I’m simply trying to decide where to start.”

Cal felt ridiculously pleased at Fraser’s response. “I’ve always felt that the beginning is usually a good place to start,” Cal suggested.

The affectionate smile that spread across Fraser’s face warmed Cal’s heart. “From the beginning then,” Fraser said. “My father first went to Chicago on the trail of my grandfather’s killers and, for reasons that don’t need exploring at this juncture, he remained attached as liaison with the Canadian Consulate.”

 

 

The End


End file.
